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THE  LIBRARY 


OF 


THE 


OF 


LOS 


UNIVERSITY 
CALIFORNIA 

ANGELES 


o 


BIBLE  HOUSE, 


HE'  PING   H-- 
Per 


LYRICS 


OTHER  POEMS 


LYRICS 


OTHER  POEMS 


S.    J.    DONALDSON,   JK. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

LINDSAY    &    B  L  A  K.I  S  T  0  N  : 
1800. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  lS">n,  l>y 
S.  J.  DONALDSON,  JR., 

iu  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Eastern  District  of 
Pennsylvania. 


HKNHY    B.    ASHMZAD,    PSINTSH 


PS 
' 

JL 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PAOB 

ETERNITY  OP  POESY,    .            .           .....  .9 

SONG — WITH  A  BUMPER  OP  BURGUNDY,     .  .           15 

THE  DANCE  OF  THE  STARS,     .            .            .  .17 

NATURE  AND  THE  SOUL,    .             .            .  .           19 

SONNET — OK  THE  HARP,          .            .            .  .23 

AN  INVOCATION,      .            .            .            .  .           24 

SONNKT — To  LILI,        .           .  .            .           ...  .27 

LINES — AN  ANALOGY,         .            .            .  .28 

SONNETS  ON  THE  FINAL  JUDGMENT      .            .  .30 

SONG — "WHERE  HAVE  THE  MIGHTY  FLED?"  .           33 

THE  MORNING  HOUR,    .            .            .            .  .35 

SONNET — ON   THE   RETURN   OF  A  FAIR  YOUNG  LADY 

TO  HER  FRIENDS  AFTER  A  LONG  ABSENCE,  .           38 

YOUTH  AND  AGE,        . ,            .            .            .  .40 

LINES,         ......  45 

To  THE  WILD  ROSE,    .            .            .            .  .48 

SONNET — ON  THE  REASONABLENESS  OF  DEATH,  .           50 

SONNET — ON  INDIVIDUALITY,    .            .            .  .51 


759446 


VI  INDEX. 

PAUR 

LINKS,         ......  ;i2 

"  OH  !  WOULD  I  WERE  A  STAR,  LOVE  !"  .             .     54 

SONNET — ON  FRIENDSHIP,  .            .            .  -                    56 

SONG  op  THE  FATES,   .            .            .  .            .     58 

LINES,         .           ...        .   .  *          .            .  .,        ,.           GO 

LINES  TO  Miss  J    M.  W.,        .            .  '.            .     62 

SONG, — "TIME  is  GLIDING  ON,"      .        ,    .  ."           G3 

To  LILI,           .           -.         >  •'.  -'        ,  .             .04 

ON  FEELING,          ...            ,            .  .           GG 

DAPHNE  AND  STREPHON,           .            .  .             .68 

THEORY  OF  CREATION,      -.  .       -  -.         •  .  •        .            TO 

THE  FALLING  STAR.              -   .            .  .             .73 

To  THE  FARMERS,  .            .           ..        :.    . '-    •        .  74 

To  AMORET,     .            .            .   '  .            .     7G 

DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  THE  POET  A.\D  uis  LYRE,     .  79 

ETERNITY,         .     •       »..-».          .  .             .98 

ON  FEELING,         .            .            V  --    :  '">.  .           100 

THE  UNIVERSAL  HEART,          ;•  .         ;  ••  •.             .     104 

HYMN  TO  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH,            .  .-•         10G 

SONNET  ON  CHATTERTON,        .            .  .            .     lOf) 

DETEHMINATION,    .            .         '.,            .  ,•  .        no 

THE  HERMIT,  .            .            .            .  ,.             .112 

SONG — "  WHO  LOVKS  NOT  TO  GAZE,"      .  .           115 

LINES  TO  Miss  R.  L.  N.,  '     .           . ..  \  .            .     1 1 G 

SONNET,    .          .  .            .            . .           .  117 

SONNET  TO  MRS.  FAN.VY  KEMBI.E,      .  .                  ll!) 


INDEX.  vii 

PAGE 

LINES — "My  HEART  EXPANDED  LIKE  A  FLOWER,"          120 

TO    LlLI    DURING    HER    ABSENCE,  .  .  .       123 

LINES  TO  Miss  S.  W.,     .  .  .  .  127 

THE  LITTLE  CLOUD,  .  .'  .  .     129 

LINES  TO  Miss  G.  C.,  .  .  .  134 

SONNETS  TO  CONSTANCE,         ....     136 

LINES  IN  THE  SPIRIT  OF  UNIVERSALISM,  .  .  139 

"FAIR  LILI'S  HEART'S  THE  TEXT  OP  LOVE,"  .     142 

To  AMORET,         .  .  .  .  .143 

THE  DEAD,     .  .  .  .  .  .145 

LINES  COMPOSED  AFTER  AN  ILLNESS,        .  .  147 

LINES  DEDICATED  TO  OUR  HOUSE  OF  REPRESENTATIVES,  150 
LINES  TO  Miss  N.  S.,  .          .  .  .  .154 

THE  DEATH-BED,  .  .  .  156 

NATURE'S  VOICE,        v  ....     158 

BALLAD — "WiTH  LILY-WHITE  HAND,"  &c.,          .  165 

To  THE  EXILES  OF  ITALY,     .  .  .  .168 

LINKS  ON  UNFORTUNATE  LOVK,    .  .  .  170 

ON  GENIUS,     .  .  .  .  .173 

To  AMORET,          .  .  .  .  .  175 

To  MIRIAM,     .  .  .  .  .178 

To  MY  IMPULSE.  .....  180 

AMBITION,        ......     184 

AMELIA — A  FRAGMENT,    .  .  .  .  186 

SPRING — AN  ANALOGY,  ....     204 

ONE'S  OWN  DAY-DREAM,  .  .  •  206 


ETERNITY  OF  POESY. 

THEY  tell  me  blind  Maeonides  is  dead ! 
That  the  sad  Muses,  bending  o'er  his  bier, 
Draped  with  the  withered  hopes  of  fallen  man, 
In  sable  garments  chant  the  cycles  sere ; 
Whilst  pale-browed  Nature  mourns  her  wont 
ed  voice, 

So  musically  pensive  in  the  past, 
Now  hushed  forever  in  one  sepulchre. 
Has  beauty  failed?     Needs  then   the  soul 

no  tone, 
That,  varying  with  the  tumults  of  the  breast, 


10  POEMS. 

May  speak  for  spirit  in  each  changeful  mood ; 
Whilst  that  a  complex  universe  in  forms 
Of  innate  loveliness,  and  joy,  and  life, 
May  pass  before  it  in  a  heart-review  ? 
Who  dares  to  say  one  heart  can  fathom  love  ? 
Or  Being  Absolute  !  Or  deathless  thoughts, 
Which  weave  their  fancies  but  in  god-like  souls, 
And,  when  once  born,  are  clustered  like  the 

stars 

In  the  vast  universe  of  mind  expressed, 
There  to   attract — repulse — and   pour   mild 

rays 

Of  intermingled  radiance  upon  Hope, 
The  child  of  Consolation  and  Desire  ! 
Who — wandering  in  sweet  rhapsodies  of  soul, 
Stealing  unconsciously,  like  twilight  dreams, 
Into  a  heart  of  innocence  and  peace — 
Oft  gazes  with  devotion  on  those  orbs, 
All  negligently  sprinkled  as  they  are 


ETEKNITY  OF  POESY.  11 

Throughout  the  infinite  of  Thought  and  God ; 
Then  pines  to  add  one  voice  unto  that  choir 
Of  sister  spheres  and  spirit-wanderers. 
Oh !  I  had  thought  the  human  heart  divine, 
And  dreamt  how  waters  of  the  spirit  steal 
Thro'  winding  chasms,  and  thro'  darksome 

glens 

From  source  as  inexhaustible  as  God ; 
And  I  had  dreamt  of  thoughts  unutterable, 
And  glorious  visions  which  no  tongue  may 

tell; 
And   I   had   dreamt  how  loveliest  joys  are 

veiled 

From  the  far  piercing  eye  of  prophecy, 
In  the  dim  future  of  an  untold  age, 
When  light  shall  circle  Spirit  as  a  crown, 
And  e'en  Maeonides  shall  be  forgot, 
And   tuneful   Milton   wake    the    groves   no 

more. 


12  POEMS. 

They  tell  me  blind  Maeonides  is  dead, 

And  that  great  themes  shall  thrill  the  world 

no  more ! 
Then  must  the  heart  be  dead !    Lament  the 

dead ! 

For  in  its  beauty,  and  for  depth  of  love, 
I  had  supposed  it  infinite  as  God  ! 

Ah!    Many  souls,  enchained,  are   bound  to 

Earth 

Thro'  beauty  only,  and  the  warm  desire 
One  day  to  view  the  universal  heart 
Bloom  like  a  flower ;  that  as  leaf  shields  leaf 
From  over  moisture  or  too  fierce  a  beam — 
When   that   a  heavy   dew   may  drip    from 

heaven, 

Like  distilled  nectar  from  the  feast  of  gods, 
Crowning  the  jeweled   cups  fair  Earth  up- 

rears 


ETEKNITY  OF  POESY.  13 

To  catch  the  shower;  or  the  keen  noonday 

rain 

Of  amber-shafted  light  may  pelt  the  buds, 
Reeling    beneath    the     stroke     in     fainting 

dreams — 
So  heart,  close  pressed  to  heart,  may  soon 

display 

The  principles  of  union  innate,  where 
Naught  save  harsh  discord  e'er  hath  reigned 

before ! 

I  tell  thee  aspirations  shall  not  die ! 

Tho'  sympathy  denied  may  waste  the  breast 

That  longs  for  a  full  echo  to  its  sighs, 

Yet,  Nature,  lost  in  utter  loveliness, 

And  reveling  within  excess  of  charms 

And   power  to  please  all   such  as  come  to 

her, 

Can  never  waft  a  longing  to  the  past ! 
2* 


14  POEMS. 

The  present  fair; — Earth's  future  gleams  with 

hope 

Of  joys  superior  to  mortal  range, 
And  thought  extended  to  vast  realms  of  mind, 
Unknown,  undreamt  of  in  the  cycles  dead. 


SONG.  15 

SONG. 

WITH  A  BUMPER  OF  BURGUNDY. 

HERE'S  to  the  lady  of  my  love! 
The  brilliant  phantasies  divine, 
Which  flow  from  mingled  love  and  wine, 
Might  angels  move ! 
No  seraph-lyre  in  languishing 
O'er  azure  fields,  could  ever  bring 
The  tenderness, 
Of  sunny  memories  to  the  soul, 
Such  as  flash  sparkling  from  the  bowl, 
In  hours  like  this, 

When  every  sigh  is  light,  and  every  dream 
is  bliss! 

Here's  to  the  lady  of  my  choice ! 
Each  languid  pulse  in  constancy, 


16  POEMS. 

Shall  warm  with  love  at  music's  sigh, 
And  lend  its  voice  ! 

Tho'  forms  of  heavenly  mould  and  brightness 
Blend  winning  grace  with  airy  lightness 
To  charm  the  eye, 

Whilst  'wildering  labyrinthine  streams, 
Whose  spirit-waves  enhance  earth's  dreams, 
Glide  listless  by, 

No  angel-form  may  please,  when  Amoret  is 
nigh ! 


THE  DANCE  OF  THE  STARS.  17 


THE  DANCE  OF  THE  STAKS. 

HAVE  you  never  heard  the  voices  of  The 

Night? 

Come  and  hearken  to  them  call 
To  the  gaudy  train  of  stars, 
As  they  crowd  unto  the  ball, 
In  a  band  of  serried  light, 
At  the   bidding   of  the  laughing  Queen  of 

Night ! 

Mark  them   tremble    in    their  eagerness  of 

heart ! 

-"While  the  lively  pleasures  throb, 
How  their  sandals  twinkle,  twinkle 
In  the  dance,  unto  the  sob 
Of  the  wind,  that  plays  the  part 
Of  the  lute,  the  noisy  viol,  and  the  harp. 


1.8  POEMS. 

Like  the  echo  of  an  everlasting  thought, 
See  them  flash  upon  the  eye, 
In  that  giddy  whirl  of  glee ; 
Catch  the  music  of  that  sigh — 
For  the  soul,  of  Nature  taught, 
Should    awake   responsive    anthems   of    the 
heart ! 

Thus  the  universe  is  solaced  of  its  woe  ; 

For  heavenly  tears  are  bright 

As  the  soft  descending  shower 

Ever  glancing  into  light ; 

They  glide,  singing  as  they  go, 

Like  the  laughter  of  the  rivulets — their  flow. 


I 

A, 


NATURE  AND  THE  SOUL.  19 

NATUKE  AND  THE  SOUL. 

IN  the  sunlight  of  the  morning, 
Ere  the  shadow  steals  its  slow  step 
From  the  meads,  and  dewy  valleys, 
To  the  boundaries  of  the  mountain, 
And  its  deep-indented  chasms ; 
When  the  twin  lips  of  Aurora 
Breathe  naught  save  immortal  fragrance, 
Wafting  life,  and  health,  and  freshness, 
O'er  the  flower-clad  boughs  and  blossoms 
And  the  wild  wind  woos  so  wildly, 
And,  in  passing  sighs  and  murmurs, 
Speaks  with  such  true  heart  and  feeling 
Of  the  wonders  of  Creation, 
That  all  ope  their  leaves  to  listen, 
As  to  faery  tales  of  wonder ; 
Till,  that  lost  in  love  and  longing, 


20  POEMS. 

They  would  fain  conceal  their  blushes, 
Tho'  they  know  not  how  to  hide  them  ; 
When  the  light  wells  in  the  fountain, 
As  it  weaves  its  sparkling  fancies 
'Neath  the  steadfast  eye  of  heaven, 
As  tho'  born  of  earth  and  darkness  ; 
Go  thou — muse  upon  thy  Being, 
Thrilled  with  deep,  eternal  yearnings 
Of  the  everlasting  Spirit ; 
So  that  in  the  calm  of  nature, 
Thou  may 'st  summon  up  before  thee 
Bright  and  never  dying  raptures; 
Thoughts  which  bow  deep  souls  with  yearn 
ings, 

Everlasting  heart-repinings 
That  their  thoughts  are  not  revealed. 

They  would  paint  them,  and  not  speak  them ; 
They  would  roll  full  tides  of  vision 


NATURE   AND   THE   SOUL.  21. 

'Neath  the  approving  gaze  of  Heaven, 
That  the  eye  of  all  might  see  them ; 
They  would  weave  enduring  fancies 
Out  of  aery  clouds  of  nothing, 
Like  the  castles  of  the  sunset, 
Or  the  purple  ridge  of  mountains, 
Or  dissolving  tints  of  rainbow, 
Or  the  waving  groves  and  willows ; 
Thus  their  dreams  would  be  revealed, 
Like  the  thoughts  of  the  Eternal. 

Go  thou — in  the  hush  of  Spirit, 
That  the  still  small  voice  of  Keason 
Deeply  moving  pure  emotions 
Of  a  soul  that  is  immortal, 
May  like  a  clarion  wake  thee 
Unto  great  resolves  and  daring. 

Go  thou ! — Burst  the  bands  which  bind  us ; 

3 


22  POEMS. 

Mingle  freely  with  the  sunlight, 
Till  thou  lose  thyself  in  Nature, 
And  its  dream-life  be  revealed 
To  the  eye  and  to  the  reason ; 
To  the  ear  and  to  the  feeling; 
That  the  darting  spray  and  sunshine, 
And  the  gentle  sigh  of  Evening, 
And  the  calm  still  joy  at  sunset, 
May  be  more  unto  the  spirit 
Than  mere  signs  and  painted  baubles- 
May  from  henceforth  be — a  feeling. 


SONNET.  23 

SONNET. 

IN  THE  UNA  WAKENED   MELODIES   OF  A  HARP. 

WHAT  soothing  symphonies  of  sound  and  soul 
Lie  slumbering  here,  lulled  in  the  lap  of  sleep  ! 
Thus  must  they  slumber,  till  a  master  sweep 
The  echoing  chords.    Then  in  wild  surges  roll 
The  thrilling  raptures ;  under  soft  control 
Of  kingly  art,  we  hear  them  laugh — or  weep ; 
While  to  sweet  rhapsodies  of  spirit,  leap 
The  trembling  pleasures,  mingling  sense  with 

soul! 

Thus  in  the  heart  lie  sleeping,  lost  in  night, 
•A  mild  variety  of  shifting  dreams ; 
Each  wayward  thought,  too  fancifully  bright, 
Thro'  Nature's  half-raised   veil   in   softness 

gleams, 

Waiting  in  eagerness  for  reason's  ray 
To  pierce  the  clouds,  and  roll  the  mists  away. 


24  POEMS. 


AN  INVOCATION ' 

TO  GENTLE  THOUGHTS,  THAT  THEY  MAY  DWELL 
IN  THE  BREAST  OF  MISS  M.  P. 

SPIRITS  fair,  which  intertwine, 

Dreams  of  being,  far  above 
Brilliant  phantasies  of  wine — 
Milder  strains  than  earthly  love  ; 
On  you  I  call — 
Come  one,  come  all ! 

Wafted  on  the  spicy  air, 

From  the  realms  of  dream-land,  come ! 
Come  in  varied  forms,  and  fair ; 

Make  her  breast  your  constant  home ; 
In  numbers  rise, 
Light  up  the  skies  ! 


AN  INVOCATION.  25 

Well  I  know  the  human  heart 
Can  endure  excess  of  light ; 
Tho'  a  dull  and  sullied  part 
Of  the  chain  of  being  bright. 
Haste  !  raise  the  pall 
That  darkens  all ! 

Shadows  drear  have  fallen  o'er 

Human  hopes  and  sympathies ; 
Hearts  which  ne'er  knew  grief  before 
Now  link  hour  to  hour  with  sigha. 
Disperse  the  shade 
Despair  has  made  ! 

Nothing  nobler  well  might  be, 

Than  the  sinner's  heart  renewed, 
Thro'  the  grace  which  makes  us  free, 
And  the  mild  Eedeemer's  blood. 
Forgiveness  bring 
From  mercy's  spring ! 

3* 


)  POEMS. 

Should  our  God  full  pardon  give 

For  offences  foul  and  dark ; 
And  in  mercy  bid  us  live 

Henceforth  lives  of  heavenly  mark ; 
Sweet  strain  for  strain 
We'll  lisp  again! 

Alt  unpracticed  in  the  art 

Of  the  melodies  of  heaven, 
We  will  tune  the  grateful  heart 
To  the  strain — "  We  are  forgiven  ! 
Glory  to  God, 
Salvation's  Lord !" 

Haste  to  lift  the  cloud  that  veils 

Heaven's  deep  mysteries  from  the  sight ; 
Each  pure  spirit,  joyful,  hails 
Earth's  redemption  to  the  right. 
E'en  in  her  fall, 
God's  all  in  all ! 


SONNET.  27 

SONNET. 

TO  LIL^. 

MOST  pure  my  love,  tho'  it  despised  be ! 
As  a  sweet  violet,  at  midnight  born, 
Droops  languishingly  ere  the  gentle  dawn 
May  smile  upon  it — such  my  love  for  thee ; 
Such  the  dim  yearning  of  my  heart  for  thee. 
E'en  thou  shalt  feel  for  me  when  joy  has  gone, 
And  the  lithe  spirit,  of  its  beauty  shorn 
Shall  wildly  revel  'midst  satiety, 
No  longer  glancing  heavenward  with  the  eye 
Of  prayerful  utterance,  for  the  lovelier  thought 
Written  upon  thy  brow;  of  its  own  sigh 
From  the  fair  palaces  of  dreamland  brought 
Heavily  to  Earth — in  anguish  there  to  die! 
Sorely  heart-stricken,  there  to  bleed  and  die! 


28  POEMS. 


LINES. 

As  some  dark  water,  struggling  long  with 

night — 

Pent  deep  within  the  bowels  of  the  earth — 
Breaks  thro'  the  trampled  green,  and  wells 

to  light, 

A  choir  of  languor  bubbling  to  the  birth ; 
The  first  wild  tumult  of  its  dashings  past, 

The  softened  cadence  floating  o'er  the  vale, 
In  dying  murmurs  still  is  fain  to  last 

In  the  light  echoes  of  the  awakened  dale ; 
So  unto  God, 
Th'  Eternal  Lord, 

The  yearnings  of  the  soul  are  known ; 
Each  burning  thought, 
From  Nature  caught, 
Is  wafted  upward  towards  his  throne ! 


LINES.  .  29 

As  the  wild  rosebud  wantons  with  the  air, 
Then  pines  to  find  its  sweetest  fragrance 

shed, 
Till  bent  with  anguish  and  oppressed  with  care, 

It  droops  to  mingle  ashes  with  the  dead ; 
As  one  by  one  its  leaves  forsake  their  stem, 
Hope  whispers  ever,  when  drear  death  be 

past 
Their  much  loved  fragrance  may  return  to 

them, 

Tho'  scattered  on  the  pinions  of  the  blast ; 
So  with  the  heart 
That's  forced  to  part 
With  each  dear  rapture  earth  has  given  ; 
Tho'  crushed  it  lies, 
And  bleeding  dies — 
It  dies  to  seek  new  joy  in  heaven  ! 


30  POEMS. 


ON  THE  FINAL  JUDGMENT. 
I. 

FORTH  from  their  spirit-sleep,  the   sheeted 

dead 

Bestir  for  judgment  at  the  angel-blast; 
That  shrill  alarum,  ushering  in  a  past 
Dark-lined  with  memories  to  bow  each  head 
In  guilt's  humiliation,  strikes  a  dread 

To  every   heart.     With  some,  such  pang 

shall  last 

Forever — from  mild  Jesus'  presence  cast — 
'Midst  gnashing  teeth,  racked  on  tormenting 

bed, 

Deep-set — inflammable ;    where   scorching 
rocks 


TWO  SONNETS.  31 

Frame  donjons  huge;  rearing  their  horrent 

front 
One  mass  of  flame,   and  formed   of  fiery 

blocks, 

Forced  by  machinery  of  howling  winds 
To  keep  such  shape  as  best  lost  souls  confines 
In  grounds  thro'  which  heart- 'wildering  ter 
rors  hunt. 

II. 

And  ye,  ye   blessed,   crowned  with   glory's 

wreath ; 
Now   ye,   rejoicing,   hymn   the   Saviour's 

praise ; 
Earth's  mild  Redeemer;  great  in  all  his 

ways! 
Man — whilst  with  man  he  dwelt — a  God  in 

death ! 
Immortal  anthems  languish  on  each  breath, 


32  POEMS. 

Whilst  spirit-wavelets  rolled  thro'  endless 

days, 

Chant  low  the  limitless  eternities ! 
The  heavens,  fair  arched  above,  the  depths 

beneath, 
Awake  to  ecstasy  at  that  sweet  sound, 

Soft  issuing  in  a  chain  of  linked  sighs ; 
Light  silvery  murmurs  from  the  •  spheres  re 
bound  ; 

Each  starry  sentinel  in  slumber  lies — 
Lulled  by  the  flow  of  those  heart-melodies — 
Or  in  its  orbit  reeling,  whirls  around. 


SONG.  33 


SONG. 

WHERE  have  the  mighty  fled  ?— 

The  lords  of  spirit,  and  the  souls  of  song  ! 

For  it  doth  seem  to  me, 

That  every  godlike  aspiration's  dead ; 
Earth  has  been  crushed  too  long; 

In  vain,  firm  manacled,  would  Will  be  free ! 

Where  have  the  mighty  fled  ? 

The  wrinkled  ages  smile  at  us  in  scorn  ; 
Each  hag  her  distaff  plies, 
Seeming  to  say,  "  'twere  better  to  be  dead, 

Or  even  not  been  born, 
Than  that  the  soul  should  waste  her  power 
in  sighs !" 

Where  have  the  mighty  fled  ? 

Sad  Earth  disowns  a  race  degenerate  ! 

4 


34  POEMS. 

In  sable  garb  and  weeds, 

She   mourns   her  offspring  in  her  first-born 

dead. 

Time  may  his  hunger  sate, 
On  such  as  ne'er  enacted  godlike  deeds ! 

"Where  have  the  mighty  fled  ? 

Their  tuneful  echoes  cry  from  Earth  to  God, 
"  It  must  and  shall  not  be  ! 
For  souls  redeemed  have  with  anguish  bled 

That  we  should  hug  the  sod." 
Earth  and  her  languages  shall  yet  be  free  !" 

Where  have  the  mighty  fled  ? 

Deep,  deep  inurn6d  in  the   human  heart, 
Their  sainted  memories  pure, 
Tho'  to  the  past  iridissolubly  wed, 

Shall  with  each  life-drop  start, 
Since  age  but  hallows  them,  and  cries — "En 
dure  !" 


THE  MORNING  HOUR.  35 


THE  MORNING  HOUR. 


For  in  the  morning  hour  I  have  gold  in  my  mouth. 

Jean  Paul  Richter. 


WHEN,  from  the  dreams  of  night, 
Eyes  ope  to  view  the  light 
Stream  thro'  the  lattice  bright 

Bathed  in  mild  splendor ; 
Oh !  how  the  radiance  soft 
Bursts  on  the  spirit,  oft 
Bearing  the  soul  aloft 

Past  life's  surrender! 

Lost  in  the  dreamy  past, 
Pleasures  that  r.e'er  could  last, 
Mist-like  obscure  and  cast 
Shades  o'er  the  reason. 
When  thro'  the  realms  of  old 


36  POEMS. ' 

Wings  the  free  heart  and  bold, 
Life  leaves  the  earthy  mould 
Chilled  for  a  season; 

Woven  of  subtle  thought, 
Dream-forms  of  air  are  brought — 
Loved  ones  long  vainly  sought — 

To  the  pure  vision  ; 
Soon  one  mild  image  bright, 
Drinks  in  the  amber  light 
Cloud-like,-  and  woos  the  sight 

To  scenes  Elysian  ! 

Oh  !  how  a  halo  steals 

O'er  the  'wrapt  soul,  and  heals 

Wounds  which  the  wan  heart  feels 

Wedded  to  anguish ! 
Mildly  a  spectre-hand, 
Waves  to  the  shadow-land, 


THE  MORNING  HOUE.  37 

Where  strains  of  spirit,  grand, 
Soothingly  languish ! 

But  when  the  shadows  steal 
Till  crushed  beneath  the  heel, 
Suddenly  warm  thoughts  congeal, 

Light  forms  have  vanished  ! 
Dragged  once  again  to  earth 
Home-thoughts  cling  round  the  hearth; 
Dead  to  a  nobler  birth, 

Mild  dreams  are  banished  ! 


38  POEMS. 


SONNET. 

ON  THE  RETURN  OF  A  FAIR  YOUNG  LADY  TO 
HER  FRIENDS  AFTER  A  LONG  ABSENCE. 

WE  welcome  thee  as  we  would  welcome  Spring, 

Rosy  awakener  of  the  slumbering  flowers  ! 

Thee,  Time  obeys;  the  "lazy -pacing"  hours 

Quickened  of  thy  clear  thought — the  mellow 

ring 

Of  thy  soft  laugh — flash  swiftly  on  the  wing, 
Besprinkled    with   the    perfume   and   the 

showers 

Which,  gentlest  exercise  of  all  thy  powers 
With  other  joys,  has  never  failed  to  bring! 
While   absent,  every  heart  has  yearned  for 

thee 

As  for  a  charm,  which  once  possessed,  had 
fled; 


SONNET.  39 

But,  tho'  bereaved,  yet  it  could  not  be 

That   we   should  think  of  thee  as  of  the 

dead; 

E'en  in  remembrance  too  much  life  was  left 
For  us  to  mourn  sweet  sense  as  so  bereft. 


40  roEMS. 


YOUTH   AND   AGE. 

HOW  AGE  IS  DEPENDENT  UPON  THE  TRAINING 
WE  EECEIVE  IN  YOUTH. 

YOUTH!  youth!  youth! 

With  a  heart  that  leaps  to  life, 

Age!  age!  age! 

With  a  pulse  that's  ebbing  fast ; 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 

When  the  spirit  sounds  to  strife, 

Age!  age!  age! 

When  our  hopes  and  fears  are  past ! 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 

When  its  fervor  warms  each  scene, 


YOUTH  AND  AGE.  41 

Age!  age!  age! 

When  the  soul  has  lost  its  power; 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 

When  each  landscape's  gay  and  green, 

Age!  age!  age! 

When  darkness  rules  the  hour  ! 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 

When  the  heart  throbs  wild  with  love, 

Age!  age!  age! 

When  fairy  dreams  are  banished ; 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 
That  forgets  its  God  above, 

Age!  age!  age! 

When  Earth's  loved  forms  have  vanished  ! 


42  POEMS. 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 

With  its  sighs,  its  tears,  its  pains; 

Age!  age!  age! 

With  its  calm  and  peaceful  hour ; 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 

With  its  winds,  and  storms,  and  rains ; 

Age!  age!  age! 

With  its  mild  refreshing  shower  ! 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 
With  a  spirit  wed  to  right, 

Age!  age!  age! 

With  its  victor-palms  and  glory  ; 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 
That  looks  to  God  for  light, 


YOUTH  AND  AGE.  43 

Age!  age!  age! 

Its  crown,  the  head  that's  hoary  ! 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 
With  a  hand  to  aid  the  poor, 

Age!  age!  age! 

With  a  heart  yet  young  and  tender ; 

Youth!  youth!  youth! 

That  with  grace  still  strives  for  more ; 

Age!  age!  age! 

Longing  for  Life's  surrender ! 

Death!  death!  death! 

With  a  han'd  so  stiff  and  chill; 

Death!  death!  death! 

Of  the  sunken  eye  and  low, — 


44  POEMS. 

Death!  death!  death! 
Thou  art  both  joy  and  ill; 
Death!  death!  death! 
Thou  art  both  friend  and  foe  ! 


LINES. 


LINES. 

MORE  than  disconsolate — 

Hated  of  her  I  love, 
Blackening  looms  my  fate 

Where'er  I  move! 

Music  held  mystic  sway 

Long,  long  within  my  breast, 

Chasing  pale  care  away, 
Whispering — ' '  rest. ' ' 

Now  that  mild  hope  is  fled, 
Stifling,  a  life-despair 

Hisses — "  tho'  joy  be  dead, 
Still  is  she  fair!" 

Ne'er  shall  heart-longings  wake 
Rapture  as  pure  again — 

5 


46  POEMS. 

Heart-thrills  for  her  sweet  sake 
Mingled  with  pain ! 

Robbed  of  my  earnest  youth, 
Fooled  of  my  aim  in  life, 

Still  has  she  left  me  Truth 
Ruling  the  strife ! 

Singly  to  her  I  cleave, 

Feeling  that  "  God  is  Love;" 

Earth's  fleeting  joys  I  leave 
For  bliss  above ! 

Could  I  have  sinned  at  all 
'Gainst  beauty  half  so  rare, 

Know  that  death's  gloomy  pall 
Soon  hides  despair ! 

Man,  tho'  he  reach  to  age, 
Dies  ere  they  bare  the  tomb— 


LINES.  47 

Life's  fool — the  white-haired  sage — 
All  seek  their  home  : 

Life's  joy  is  waked  of  death; 

Death  is  but  change  of  form ; 
Mingling  in  one  quick  breath 

Either  can  harm ! 

Maiden,  so  learn  to  live, 

That  when  you  come  to  die, 

No  thought  may  anguish  give, 
Waking  a  sigh  ! 


•18  POEMS. 


TO  THE  WILD  ROSE. 

SWEET  flower  so  pure  and  white 

Thy  life  is  fleeting  fast, 
Each  breath  thou  drawest  breathe  low,  breathe 
light, 

For  it  may  be  thy  last ! 

Apart  from  storms  and  strife, 

Protected  from  the  gales, 
Thou  shadowest  forth  my  dream  of  life, 

Amid  the  scented  vales  ! 

Each  velvet  leafs  a  page 

Of  dream-life  unrevealed, 
From  glowing  youth  to  wrinkled  age 

God's  law  thy  lips  hath  sealed  ! 


TO  THE  WILD  ROSE.  49 

Perchance,  were  language  given 
To  lisp  dream-thoughts  to  earth, 

The  incense  wafted  up  towards  heaven 
"Would  hallow  lowly  birth ; 

For  as  I  look  on  thee 

Still  grows  the  thought  divine, 
The  lowly  soul's  humility 

Is  shadowed  forth  in  thine; 

And  as  thy  dreams  are  known 

To  spirits  pure  and  fair ; 
So  does  the  Lord  our  God,  alone, 

Judge  human  hearts  thro'  prayer  ! 


50  POEMS. 

SONNET. 

OX  THE  KEASONABLENESS  OF  DEATH. 

THE  soul  of  Music  murmuring  in  a  shell, 
Wearied  of  Ocean's  roar,  longs  for  the  land ; 
When  rolled  of  kindly  fortune  to  the  strand, 

Borne  lightly  o'er  the  bosom  of  a  swell, 

0  what  sweet  tremblings  from  its  spirit  well ! 
Heart's  silent  dreams  to  melodies  expand 
With  that  new  being :  tones  and  feelings 
bland 

Gush  with  a  rapture  as  thro'  magic  spell: 

For  harmony,  dependent  upon  change, 
Resembles  man  in  Life's  monotony, 

Pining  until  mild  Death  enlarge  the  range 

Of  innate  faculties  and  reason  high ! 
"The  dread  of  dissolution  seems  most  strange 

In  souls  immortal,  wed  to  harmony! 


SONNET.  51 


SONNET. 

LAW  OF  INDIVIDUALITY  AS  EMBODIED  IN  THE 
PHILOSOPHY  OF  SCHELLING. 

FOREVER  and  forever  roaming  free 
The  infinite  of  Being,  there  shall  fall — 
As  heretofore  to  numbers  musical — 

A  power  enshrouding  mind  thro'  law-decree 

In  forms  of  less  or  greater  brilliancy  ! 

Thus  Light  wells  as  from  a  spring  original, 
Weaving  its  gauzy  net-work  over  all 

The  broad  expanse  of  Nature's  wavy  sea  ! 

But  as  those  splendors  die  and  fade  away 
In  graduated  links  of  beauty's  chain, 
The  glories  paling  ne'er  return  again, 

Nor  those  enwoven  there  forever  stay  ! 

The  gloomy  shroud  is  stern  necessity — 

The  rosy  smile,  mild  Being's  passing  ray ! 


POEMS. 


LINES. 

OH  !  who  can  paint  the  burning  cheek 
When  sorrow,  mingling  with  despair, 

May  find  no  deeper  tone  to  speak 
Its  anguish  to  the  air ! 

The  glow  of  love  and  shame,  diffused 
O'er  many  a  pale  and  careworn  brow, 

Betokens  how  a  heart  abused 
Still  cherishes  its  vow  ! 

What  tho'  the  pensive  ear  of  Night 
In  silence  drank  those, thrills  of  love, 

Which  were  to  last  whilst  circlets  bright 
Should  weave  the  dance  above ; 

The  soul  that  thirsts  for  happiness 
Is  oft  misguided  in  the  way, 


LINES.  53 

And  dreameth  not  that  deep  distress 
Shall  crown  the  close  of  day  ! 

Then  steel  the  heart  to  passion's  call ; 

Ah  !  let  not  Love's  delusive  voice 
Cast  over  youth's  fair  dream,  the  pall 

Of  a  misguided  choice  ! 


POEMS. 


"Oh!  were  I  a  star,"  he  sang  within  his  heart,  "I 
would  shine  upon  thee ;  were  I  a  rose,  I  would  blossom 
for  thee;  were  I  a  sound,  I  would  press  into  thy  ear  and 
thy  heart ;  were  I  love,  the  happiest  love,  I  would  dwell 
therein.  Ah  !  were  I  only  a  dream,  I  would  visit  thee 
in  slumber,  and  be  the  star,  and  the  rose,  and  love  itself, 
and  vanish  only  when  you  awoke!" — Jean  Paul  Richter. 

OH  !  would  I  were  a  star,  love , 

That  I  might  pour  o'er  thee 
Soft  trembling  lines  of  silvery  light, 
Which,  sliding  down  their  pathway  bright, 

Might  turn  thy  glance  to  me ! 

Oh  !  would  I  were  a  rose,  love, 

To  paint  my  leaves  for  thee ; 
Mild  pencillings  of  melting  views 
In  changeful  rainbow-tints  and  hues 

Should  warm  thine  heart  for  me ! 


POEMS.  55 

Oh !  would  I  were  thy  heart's  love, 

I'd  thrill  the  purest  breast, 
That  ever  waked  a  balmy  sigh — 
When  none  save  God  and  heaven  were  nigh — 

Or  hushed  its  snows  to  rest ! 

But  were  I  but  a  dream,  love, 

I'd  wing  my  way  to  thee; 
Thro'  all  the  realms  of  Nature  sought, 
The  star,  the  rose,  the  secret  thought, 

Should  nightly  blend  o'er  thee  ! 


56  POEMS. 


SONNET 

ON  FRIENDSHIP. 

LOVE,  admiration,  friendship,  are  not  bought ! 
Unlike   the   sordid   gems    exhumed    from 

Earth, 
These   flash   their   sparkles   at    the  lowly 

hearth, 
Whilst   kings   have  mourned  to  view  their 

rays  depart. 

Compared  to  Friendship's  recreating  power 
How  vain  the  rapturous  thrills  of  eager 

sense ! 

How  kindly,  praise  and   love's  sweet  in 
fluence 

Encircle  with  new  charms  life's  fleeting  hour, 
Till  heart,  impassioned,  wills  each  joy  to  stay  ! 


SONNET.  57 

These,  like  swift  gleams  of  lightning,  may 

not  last ; 
"Winged  of  the  sudden  thought  and  laughing 

eye — 

A  joyous  train — they  seek  a  smiling  past, 
Fair  ushering  into  everlasting  day 
A  mind  imbued  with  love's  eternity  ! 


58  POEMS. 


SONG  OF  THE  FATES. 

TWINE,  sisters,  twine — 

Sisters  three, 

Fatal  three — 

Threads  of  human  destiny ! 

This  for  the  living, 

That  for  the  dead  ; 

Weave  in  a  strand  of  memories  fled  ; 

Twist  them  together  to  form  one  thread, 

Till  the  cord  becomes  a  chain — 

Galling  chain — 

Coiling  round,  and  round,  and  round, 

Heart  and  mind,  till  each  is  bound, 

And  the  living  wish  they  were  the  dead ! 

Twine,  sisters,  twine — 
Sisters  three, 


SONG  OF  THE  FATES.  59 

Fatal  three — 

Threads  of  mortal  destiny  ! 

Here's  for  the  living, 

Here's  for  the  dead, 

Weave  in  a  strand  of  hopes  unfed  ; 

Twist  them  together  to  form  one  thread, 

Till  that  life  becomes  a  misery — 

A  sigh — 

Welling  up,  and  up  again, 

From  the  heart-spring  to  the  brain, 

Till  the  living  wish  that  they  could  die  ! 


60  POEMS. 


LINES. 

WHY  do  I  mourn  ?   No  soul  is  near ; 
Earth  lends  no  sympathetic  ear 

To  drink  the  strain  ! 
The  boundless  fields  of  buoyant  air ; 
The  wide  expanse  of  forests  drear, 

But  mock  my  pain  ! 

Once  'twas  not  thus!     No  lark  so  gay 
When  morning  blushed,  or  closed  the  day 

His  tranquil  eye  ; 

Then  dreams  came  quick  as  moments  fled ; 
But  lay  these  memories  with  the  dead — 

I  too  would  die  ! 

s 

From  earthly  joys — from  charms  of  sense — 
An  all  discerning  Providence 
Would  wean  my  mind  : 


LINES.  61 

Why  mourn  we  thus  for  what  is  not  ? 
The  past,  when  past,  should  be  forgot, 
Or  reason  blind ! 

Is  there  a  witchery  in  the  strain 

Sad  memory  wakes,  tho'  borne  with  pain 

And  silent  tears  ? 
Who  would  resign  one  memory, 
Sad  tho'  it  be,  for  pleasure's  lie 

Thro'  manhood's  years? 

Nature  shall  be  the  solacer 
Of  myriad  woes ;  unnatural  fear 

Of  what  may  be, 

Vanquished,  shall  wander  far  away  ; 
Nature  alone  shall  be  the  stay 

Of  age  for  me  ! 

6* 


62  POEMS. 


LINES  TO  MISS  J.  M.  W. 

SAY,  would 'st  thou  have  my  spirit  wear 
A  chain  both  sore  and  hard  to  bear  ? 
Show  me  a  maid  with  light  brown  hair ! 

A  chain  of  sighs,  whose  links  are  tears, 

Fast  riveted  of  hopes  and  fears, 

And  thoughts  which  bow  a  soul  for  years  ! 

But,  should  she  add  a  hazel  eye 
That  liquid  melts,  tho'  none  be  nigh — 
My  heart  is  thrilled  with  ecstasy  ! 

And,  should  the  chiseled  lip  be  there, 
Which,  statue-like,  breathes  one  rapt  prayer ; 
Immortals  !  say  ! — what  is  so  fair  ? 


SONG.  G3 


SONG. 

TIME  is  gliding  on, 
Like  a  river — like  a  river ; 
The  moments  that  have  flown, 
Have  flown  forever — ever  ! 
No  wave  may  backward  roll 
With  the  deep  impulse  of  soul ; 
The  seed  each  heart  has  sown, 
Are  sown  forever — ever  ! 

Life  is  winding  on, 
Like  a  river — like  a  river ; 
Each  winged  thought  once  flown, 
Has  flown  forever — ever  ! 
We  may  ne'er  recall  the  past, 
Or  make  the  present  last ; 
The  deeds  each  soul  has  done, 
Are  done  forever — ever  ! 


64  POEMS. 


TO    LILI. 

WHEN  I  gaze  upon  thy  brow,  Lili, 
And  see  the  artless  smile 
Illume  thy  face 
Of  matchless  grace, 
Which  seems  to  know  no  guile; 
I  ask  with  tearful  eye,  Lili, 
Could  man  but  view  thee  now, 
Who  'neath  the  sun 
Could  picture  one 
So  bright,  so  true  as  thou,  Lili ; 
So  bright,  so  true  as  thou. 

When  I  gaze  upon  thy  brow,  Lili, 
And  note  the  artful  smile 
Steal  o'er  thy  face, 
Of  faultless  grace, 


TO  LILI.  65 

O'ersliadowing  it  the  while; 
I  ask  with  saddening  tone,  Lili, 
Could  man  but  know  thee  now, 
Who  'neath  the  sun 
Could  image  one, 
So  light,  so  false  as  thou,  Lili ; 
So  light,  so  false  as  thou. 


66  POEMS. 

LINES  UPON  FEELING. 

I  KNOW  not  what  my  heart  would  say, 
Yet  shall  my  impulse  have  its  way ; 
Pure  feeling  should  be  unconfined, 
And  freed  from  trammels  of  the  mind. 

Reason  may  echo  problems  brought 
From  her  own  realms  of  tangled  thought; 
But  feeling  never  yet  has  found 
An  instrument  her  depths  to  sound. 

What  feeling  is,  and  how  it  moves 
The  spirit  that  pure  spirit  loves, 
Must  ever  rest  as  unrevealed, 
As  kindred  truths  to  reason  sealed. 

The  life  within  us  hides  its  form 
From  frequent  gaze;  no  curious  charm 


LINES  UPON  FEELING.  67 

Can  pierce  that  veil  which  dazzles  sight, 
Or  drag  its  glories  to  the  light. 

But  when  the  favorite  hour  has  come 
In  spirit  ecstasy  to  roam 
Forth  thro'  great  Nature's  wide  domain — 
Reason  may  call,  and  call  in  vain. 

Feeling,  her  own  and  truest  guide 
To  pure  expression,  will  deride 
Such  feeble  shackles  as  would  bind 
The  loftiest  soarings  of  the  mind. 

When  feeling  holds  her  faery  court 
Imagination  wings  each  thought; 
When  intuition  claims  her  sway, 
E'en  reason  stoops,  and  must  obey. 


68  POEMS. 


DAPHNE  AND  STREPHON. 

FAIR  Daphne's  linked  in  friendship's  chain, 

But  Strephon  sighs  for  love  ; 
Tho'  oft  he  breathes  the  amorous  strain 

No  prayer  that  heart  can  move. 

One  dewy  morn,  when  all  alone, 
Not  dreaming  Daphne's  nigh; 

He  thus  begins  his  fate  to  moan, 
And  waken  sigh  by  sigh  : 

"Ah,  Daphne!  cruel  maid!"  he  cries, 
"  Why  wound  a  constant  breast; 

Wilt  still  reject  tumultuous  sighs, 
And  wrong  a  flame  confessed  ? 

As  oft  as  I  with  burning  cheek 
Would  breath  love's  warm  desires, 


DAPHNE  AND  STREPHON.  69 

Thy  rosy  lips  of  friendship  speak, 
And  wake  the  smouldering  fires. 

But  now,  since  tears  may  ne'er  avail 

To  ease  the  careworn  heart, 
The  lightest  craft  that  hoistens  sail 

Shall  me  and  Daphne  part." 

"Ah,  silly  swain!"  a  soft  voice  cries, 
"  How  long  must  Nature  prove 

That  when  a  handsome  gallant  sighs, 
Maids  mean  by  friendship — love!" 


70  POEMS. 


THEOEY  OF  CREATION. 

WHAT  time  Almighty  will  indued  with  form 
The  crude  and  ill  digested  elements, 
(Which  heretofore,  thro'  endless  ages  past, 
Strove  to  combine  in  numbers  musical,) 
^Ether,  fair  Nature's  prime  material, 
Was  moved  to  hear  his  voice.     Thence  light 

was  born — 

Bright  tension  of  the  one  original — 
And  Time  first  throbbed  his  seconds  to  the 

glance 

Of  myriad  and  well  directed  spears 
Hurled  thro'  thick  darkness — tilting  at  the 

void 

Which  rolled  before  them  moulded  to  a  sphere 
Impenetrable;  shrouded  from  the  rays 
Glancing  in  colors  from  the  upturned  shield 


THEORY    OF    CEEATIQN.  71 

Which  guards  the  heart  of  envious  Nothing 
ness. 

Thus  first  the  glories  of  Eternal  Mind 
Were  wove  in  language,  which,  to  speak  direct 
To  every  heart  that  loves  the  beautiful, 
Was  syllabled  from  alphabet  of  stars, 
That  all  might  read  who  chose.     But  he  who 

would 

Falsely  traduce  this  language  of  the  soul, 
By  interlining  truth  with  falsity 
On  Nature's  manuscript,  must  inly  pine 
God's  work's  so  far  removed;  feeling  heart- 
pain 

.  That  others,  innocent  of  malicious  schemes, 
Will  read  with  joy  the  thoughts   imprinted 

there ; 

Existence  of  a  God  immutable, 
Whose    pleasure,    character,    and    name,    is 
Love; 


72  POEMS. 

Whose  life  is  circled  of  one  principle — 

The  power  of  being  loved  by  those  He  loves ; 

Whilst  Eeason  acts  thro'  high  creative  Will 

Able  to  m6uld  all  being  to  all  forms, 

With  Wisdom's  self  to  guide  thatWill  aright. 


THE  FALLING  STAB.  73 

THE  FALLING  STAR. 

'TwA&  eve — a  summer's  eve — and  starlight 

reigned ; 

But  my  fond  heart  throbbed  to  a  higher  key 
Than  that  of  Nature  in  its  loveliest  strain — 
For  at  my  side  shown  Beauty  idolized ! 
A  lady  of  the  mildest  grace  and  form, 
Walked  arm-in-arm  with  me,  whose  love-lit 

eyes 

Streamed  thro'  the  night,  and  bade  the  dark 
ness  flee. 
So  soft  their  radiance,  that  the  stars  looked 

down, 

Longing  to  catch  sweet  Music's  deeper  soul; 
One,  stooping  too  near  earth,  in  eagerness 
Of  love's  unutterable  ecstasy, 
Encroached  upon  the  orbits  of  her  eyes, 
When,  lost  in  brilliancy,  it  sank  to  night ! 


74  POEMS. 


ADDEESS 

TO  THE  FARMERS,  WHO,  PRAYING  FOR  RAIN, 
WERE  ANSWERED  BY  A  THUNDER  GUST, 
WHICH  WORKED  THEM  AN  INJURY. 

YE  have  your  wish,  ye  men  of  wheat, 

Lean  horses,  pigs,  and  cattle ; 
The  winds  of  heaven  in  conflict  meet, 

Banged  valiantly  to  battle. 

For  three  long  weeks  in  sunny  June 
Ye  wrung  your  hands  in  anguish, 

Beseeching  God  to  send  rain  soon, 
Lest  corn  and  plenty  languish. 

Now  that  the  muffled  skies  are  black, 
And  spirit-drums  yield  thunder, 


ADDRESS.  75 

Whilst  lightnings  stretch  the  eye  on  rack, 
Ye  own  too  late  your  blunder. 

Your  corn  is  beaten  to  the  plain, 

Stark  crazed  with  fright  your  cattle ; 

God's  whirlwind  champions  ride  amain 
So  valiantly  to  battle. 

But  while  ye  mourn,  the  deep-souled  sky 
Behind  the  dark  clouds  laughing, 

Shall  celebrate  Eternity — 
Immortal  sunlight  quaffing ; 

Soon  Earth's  warm  smile  shall  greet  the  eye — 
The  threatening  storm-clouds  sever; 

The  rainbow-arch  of  victory 
Hangs  over  earth  forever. 


76  POEMS. 


TO  AMOEET, 

UPON  THE  MARRIAGE  OF  HER  SISTER. 

ONE  smiling  eve,  slow  step  I  turned 

To  where  the  Santee  flows ; 
The  dewy  valleys  clothed  in  green, 
Lay  glistening  with  silver  sheen, 
For  in  the  blue  the  planets  burned 
As  Cynthia  fair  arose  ! 

When,  lo  !  just  near  I  chanced  to  spy 

A  sweet-brier  blooming  fair; 
Each  opening  bud  with  promise  smiled, 
Whilst  those  full  blown,  in  radiance  mild, 
As  tho'  to  tempt  a  passer-by, 
Swayed  gracefully  in  air. 


TO  AMORET.  77 

Such  beauty  waked  the  warm  desire 

To  win  one  to  my  hand  ; 
With  critic  glance  I  gazed  on  all ; 
When,  lo !  I  heard  a  footstep  fall 
That  warned  me  in  swift  haste  retire, 
And  at  a  distance  stand. 

A  handsome  stranger  won  his  way 

Straight  to  the  fragrant  tree; 

My  heart  beat  loud  with  anxious  fear 

Lest  that  fair  glory  disappear — 

Plucked  hastily  and  borne  away — 

Which  won  my  heart  and  me. 

But,  ah !  so  various  is  the  taste 

That  reigns  o'er  mortals'  choice; 
His  sleeve  but  dashed  the  roseate  dew, 
In  reaching  for  a  flower,  which  grew 


78  POEMS. 

In  beauty  near,  so  pure  and  chaste 
It  bade  the  eye  rejoice. 

Thus,  Amoret,  I  feared  thy  grace 

Might  win  a  wooer's  eye; 
But  he  o'erlooked  thy  beauteous  birth, 
And  stooping  nearer  to  the  earth, 
Became  enamored  of  a  face 

That  beamed  in  radiance  nigh. 


DIALOGUE.  79 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  A  POET  AND 
HIS  LYKE. 

I. 

WHEN  first  I  raised  the  trembling  lyre 

And  swept  with  transient  touch  the  strings, 
To  wake  the  lay  of  soft  desire 

Or  soothe  the  sigh  that  sorrow  brings, 
Faint  Echo  caught  the  lingering  strain  ; 

Ere  yet  its  tremblings  died  away, 
The  soft  vibrations  breathed  a  name 

That  woke  anew  the  slumbering  lay ; — 
'Twas  thy  name,  Mary. 

II. 

And  still  its  tremblings  answered  low 
Responsive  to  the  name  it  waked, 


80  POEMS. 

And  moved  all  to  music's  ebb  and  flow, 
Flooding  both  hill  and  dale,  green  sward 
and  woodland  lake; 

Whilst  ofttimes  it  a  sinuous  course  would  take 

Thro'  caverned  rocks,  and  briary-brambled 
brake 

Which  gave  back  sigh  for  sigh,  and  throe  for 
throe ; 

Whilom  all  nature  gushed  with  one  heart- 
melody. 

III. 

Cease !  cease  thy  murmuring ! 

Or  would 'st  thou  break  my  heart  ? 

Canst  not  impart 

Some  other  whisper  to  the  distant  hills  ? 

Nay !  Greece  with  all  her  rills 

Could  never  echo  half  so  sweet  a  strain  ! 

Then  sigh  again ! 


DIALOGUE.  81 

IV. 

What  would'st  thou  have  me  sigh  ? 

That  joy  must  die  ! 

That  all  the  loved  and  beautiful  of  earth ; 

That  white-robed  purity  and  worth  ; 

That  great  thoughts  teeming  to  their  birth, 

Are  as  the  incense  on  the  air — 

A  moment  here — a  moment  there, 

Or  as  "  the  wind  that  idly  passeth  by  ?" 

V. 

Nay,  stay  thy  hand !  That  well  known  theme's 

too  sad, 

And  one  brought  nearer  to  the  heart  of  man 
By  the  slow  lapse  of  silent  centuries  ! 
It  courses,  fiery-pulsed,  along  his  veins, 
With  every  beat  which  times  life's  destiny ! 
Each  second  views  the  burning  flood  glide  on 
In  eddying  circles  toward  the  source  of  life ; — 


82  POEMS. 

With   noiseless 'flow,  pouring  its  fire-lapped 

waves 
Around   the    anguished   heart,   which,    half 

subdued, 

Fainting  'neath  excess  of  ceaseless  wavering 
'Twixt  hope  and  fear,  ever  is  ill  at  ease, 
Until  with  power  adverse  it  pours  it  back 
To  ebb  forever  in  a  reckless  whirl 
Along  the  parched  and  dried  up  arteries, 
Flooding    each    separate    organ    linked    to 

thought : 

Nay,  sing  not  that ! 

Each  soul's  its  own  musician  for  that  strain; 
'Tis  the  silent  music  of  man's  being — 
Sad  as  his  destiny ! 

VI. 

Then  I  will  sing 
Of  the  daedal  Earth 


DIALOGUE.  83 

And  the  dancing  stars ; 
The  world  shall  ring 
With  the  Titan's  birth 
And  the  deeds  of  Mars ! 

The  glittering  helm, 
The  quivering  spear 
And  thrice  bound  shield ; 
Dark  Pluto's  realm, 
With  pale-faced  Pear, 
And  hearts  that  yield ! 

I  will  sing  of  a  spring, 
And  the  'wildering  maze 
Of  its  winding  stream  ; 
How  the  blue  bells  ring 
When  their  heads  they  raise 
'Neath  the  moon's  soft  beam ! 


84  POEMS. 

How  the  light  elves  swing 
On  the  bending  blade 
As  it  sways  to  the  breeze ; 
And  their  wee  songs  ring 
Thro'  the  gladsome  glade 
As  they  loll  at  ease  ! 

They  are  borne  to  the  sky — 

To  the  infinite  blue 

t 
And  its  arched  dome; 

As  they  ride  on  high, 
They  are  lost  to  view 
In  the  spirit's  home  ! 

The  fire-fly  now 
Suggesteth  a  song 
As  it  wingeth  the  air ; 
With  its  radiant  glow, 
As  it  wendeth  along, 
And  its  meteor-glare ! 


DIALOGUE.  85 

As  it  wanders  afar, 
It  is  lost  to  the  sight 
In  the  measureless  dark; 
Like  a  full  orbed  star 
It  sprinkles  the  light 
Of  its  luminous  spark ! 

VII. 
Why  wilt  thou  grieve  a  heart  forsworn  ? 

Already  now  the  hour  has  past 
When  melodies  like  thine  may  last ; 
Thy  softest  lay 's  received  with  scorn. 

The  wildest  music  Earth  has  given — 
The  most  irregular  and  sweet — 
Wherein  the  thought  and  action  meet, 

Were  echoing  symphonies  of  heaven. 

Then  prythee,  pipe  a  simple  lay, 
Nor  from  the  laws  of  metre  stray ; 

8* 


86  POEMS. 

The  loveliest  thought — the  wildest  throe ; 
The  brightest  joy — the  deepest  woe, 
Will  never  once  excuse  the  line 
That  breathes  of  sympathies  divine  ! 

VIII. 
What !  would'st  thou  bind  the  freedom  of  my 

verse  ? 

By  what  old  statute  wouldest  thou  coerce  ? 
Didst  ever  hear  the  thunder's  distant  roar, 
Or  the  wild  surges  by  the  lone  sea-shore  ? 
Didst  ever  view  the  lights  and  shadows  play 
Upon  the  sleeping  hills,  and  flee  away 
With  lightning  speed,  until  they  cease    to 

roam, 
Vanquished  and    lost  within    the    evening's 

gloom  ? 

Then  tell  me  in  what  ratio  they  move, 
That  I  may'  learn  of  them  to  sing  of  love  ! 


DIALOGUE.  87 

Each  globe  of  night  is  tremulously  hung 
Self-poised  in  vacancy,  and  boundless  space 
Alone  confines  the  ardor  of  the  race, 
As  ray  leads  ray  to  mingle  in  the  chase 
To  nothing  tending,  and  from  nothing  sprung  ! 

'Tis  eve,  and  stillness  reigns  supreme  ! 

Each  wave  of  air  speaks  whisperingly  low, 

Lulling  the  spirit  in  its  dream 

Of  voiceless  happiness  or  saddening  woe  ! 

All  pulseless  is  the  heart;  the  noiseless  flow 

Of  the  pure  Reason's  limpid  stream 

Scarce  wakes  the  burden  of  the  outbreathed 

sigh; 

The  groves  wherein  the  breezes  lie, 
Guarded  of  close-lipped  Silence,  anxious  seem 
To  murmur  Nature's  holy  lullaby  : 

IX. 

The  winds  awake, 

The  streamlets  dance; 


8,8  POEMS. 

Grove  nods  to  grove 

From  its  dreamy  trance 
And  whispers,  "  love  !" 

The  ruffled  lake 
Inclines  the  ray ; 

From  swell  to  swell 
The  murmurs  play, 

And  whisper,  "  well !" 

The  joyous  birds 

Now  swarm  the  moor; 

A  sweeter  note 
Than  e'er  before 

Now  swells  the  throat. 

The  lark  pours  forth 
Her  evening  lay ; 

Like  morning  frost 
It  melts  away, 

Forever  lost ! 


DIALOGUE.  89 

Each  thing  of  life 's 

A  happy 'wight; 
Each  supple  wing 

Is  bathed  with  light 
Evanishing ! 

The  free  wind  bends 

The  scalloped  boat; 
Beneath  the  gale 

Two  shadows  float 
With  well  trimmed  sail ! 

X. 

If  thou  would 'st  only  ease  my  soul 

Of  all  that  burns  within  it, 
I'd  praise  thee  with  my  latest  breath ; — 

Canst  do  it  ?    Pray  begin  it. 

Tell  her — the  maiden  of  my  dreams — 
My  heart  still  loves  her  dearly, 


90  POEMS. 

That  every  glance  and  every  sigh 
Betokens  how  sincerely. 

Tell  her,  I  love  her  with  a  soul 

That  feels  it  is  a  duty 
To  bend  in  reverence  and  awe 

Before  the  shrine  of  beauty ; 

That  shame  and  scorn  can  never  change 
The  pure  and  constant  spirit; 

'Tis  lost  within  the  beautiful — 
'Twas  formed  to  worship  merit ! 

Oh !  constancy 's  its  own  reward 
E'en  tho'  it  may  be  slighted, 

The  flower  it  rears,  the  blossom  love — • 
Where  didst  thou  find  it  blighted  ? 

A  gleam  of  hope  expands  its  leaves, 
Tho'  nipped  within  the  hour, 


DIALOGUE.  91 

Another  and  a  lovelier  bloom 
Bursts  forth  to  prove  its  power ! 

The  more  you  bend  the  fragrant  tree 

The  purer  perfume  sheds  it, 
Mild  incense,  mist-like,  floats  around, 

The  air  of  heaven  weds  it ! 

XI. 

Canst  sing  of  love  ? — undying  love  ? 

Canst  paint  a  calm  still  yearning  ? 
Canst  whisper  of  the  fiery  tide 
Within  the  spirit  burning  ? 

Canst  murmur  how 

I  breathed  a  vow 
To  grace  one  shrine  forever? 

Winged  Time  shall  prove 

A  spirit-love 
No  earthly  tie  may  sever  ! 


92  POEMS. 

I'll  do  my  best ; 

At  thy  behest 
I'll  paint  the  constant  spirit; 

I'll  prove  that  love 

Soars  far  above 
High  talent,  mind,  or  merit ! 

Then  pray  begin, — 
Thy  guerdon  win, — 

Eternal  fame  elate  thee; 
The  Graces  stand 
With  wreaths  in  hand, 

May  bright  success  await  thee  ! 

Then  be  all  ear; 

Thou  need'st  not  fear, 
My  spirit  drinks  each  murmur ; 

List  to  a  strain  to  ease"  thy  pain 
Then — cling  to  love  the  firmer  ! 


DIALOGUE.  93 

XII. 

I  love  a  maid — I  love  but  ane; 

She  recks  na  of  my  love  na  me, 
She  binds  me  wi'  a  triple  chain 

Whilst  Joy  sits  laughing  in  her  e'e ! 

Of  faultless  air,  of  matchless  grace, 
She  wiles  my  listless  heart  away 

Each  passing  glory  of  her  face 
Outrivals  morn's  serenest  ray  ! 

I  love  a  maid — I  love  but  ane; 

Soft  music  breathes  from  every  feature, 
Yet,  whilst  she  gies  all  others  pain 

God  ne'er  could  mould  a  lovelier  creature: 

The  sunny  glance — the  'witching  smile — 
The  starlight  tangled  in  her  tresses 

Which  ever  and  anon  the  while 
Fall  o'er  her  neck  in  soft  caresses; 

9 


94  POEMS. 

The  snowy  arm,  its  beauties  bare, 
Beguiles  my  soul  of  all  its  leisure ; 

The  floating  meteor  of  her  hair 

Has  robbed  my  heart  of  every  pleasure  ! 

And  whilst  I  sigh,  and  whilst  I  gaze, 
My  burning  spirit 's  hushed  in  sadness, 

Lost  far  within  the  'wildering  maze 

Of  deepening  woe,  and  maniac  gladness  ! 

I  love  a  maid — I  love  but  ane; 

When  God  first  breathed  soft  music  o'er  her 
The  flowers  entranc6d  of  the  strain 

With  glowing  bosoms  bowed  before  her  ! 

The  wilding  rose — her  incense  shed — 
Grew  faint  beneath  excess  of  pleasure  ; 

The  poppy  reared  its  dreamy  head  ; 

The  violet  breathed  its  choicest  treasure  ; 


DIALOGUE.  95 

The  blue  bell  tolled  its  fairy  note — 

Tho'  of  its  music  ever  chary, 
The  woodlark  warbled  from  her  throat — 

The  dream  of  love — the  name  of  Mary  ! 

Ah;  me !  my  heart !    Thou,  too,  bewrayed 
Wert  captured  when  all  unwary, 

The  trembling  note  soft  Nature  made 

Breathed   thro'  thy  chords   the   name  of 
Mary ! 

The  whisperings  die — the  accents  faint — 
Yet  still  the  rapture  burns  within  me, 

Whilst  heart-throbs  wed  the  voiceless  plaint, 
Nae  other  murmur  e'er  shall  win  me  ! 

Still  will  I  love,  and  love  but  ane, 
Tho'  nae thing  save  despair  abide  me, 

Tho'  madness  seize  upon  the  brain, 
And  all  who  know  me  may  deride  me ! 


96  POEMS. 

Still  will  I  love,  and  love  but  ane, 

Tho'  every  freeborn  thought  forsake  me, 

And  Fever  with  his  ghastly  train 
Of  tort'ring  phantasies,  o'ertake  me  ! 

And  when  these  lips  are  paled  in  death, 
Soft  harmonies  shall  float  between  them — 

The  echoings  of  their  former  breath — 
Nae  other  strain  shall  e'er  demean  them ! 

The  soul  enraptured  of  that  strain 
Around  those  lips  shall  restless  hover, 

Nae  mair  compressed  with  maddening  pain 
But  breathing  of  the  constant  lover  ! 

And  when  laid  low  within  the  tomb, 
That  voice  shall  wake  the  silent  dust, 

Earth's  loathsome  vault,  and  sombre  gloom, 
Shall  hold  in  vain  the  breathinsr  bust! 


DIALOGUE. 

The  heart  shall  beat  its  measured  stroke ; 

Love's  calm  pulsations  thrill  the  breast; 
Till  Death's  stern  power,  forever  broke, 

Leave  conquering  spirit  to  its  rest ! 


98  POEMS. 


ETEKNITY. 

LOST  in  a  vision,  I  beheld,  and  lo ! 

An  ocean — shoreless  as  the  realms  of  night — 

Toward  which,  as  to  a  home,  each  restless 

wave 
Points   it  froth-cap  : — as  tho'  rest  could  be 

found 

For  that  to  which  God  whispers,  "  flow  for 
ever !" 

No  ebb  was  there — no  tide  ;  no  beach  whereon 
To  spread  the  dazzling  white  cloth  of  its  foam ; 
For  evermore,  shoreless,  surge  strives  with 

surge 

To  win  a  path  straight  forward  to  the  goal 
That  still  recedes  before  the  combatants, 
Enshrouded  in  the  black  pall  of  a  night 
Which  knows  no  moon,  nor  solitary  star 


ETERNITY.  99 

To  unveil  darkness  in  her  drear  retreat ! 
And  then,  oh,  man !  poor  earthworm !  reck 
less  fool ! 

I  saw  thee  point  the  decorated  prow 
Wreathed   with   the  painted  baubles  of  the 

earth, 

Toward  that  wild  chaos  of  unending  night, 
As  tho'  ensured  from  shipwreck'd  woe,  and 

harm, 

And  life  were  but  the  plaything  of  the  hour — 
An  evening  sail  upon  an  inland  stream ! 


100  POEMS. 


LINES  ON  FEELING. 

WHEN  the  golden  tide  of  feeling 

Softly  lulls  the  soul  to  rest, 
A  truer  phase  revealing 

Of  the  world  within  the  breast, 
'Tis  then  I  love  to  wander 

'Mid  the  hills  and  painted  fields, 
Where  pensive  I  may  ponder 

The  truths  its  ray  reveals. 

Far  softer  than  the  sunlight 

Upon  a  hazy  day, 
When  the  first  bright  beam  of  morning 

Hastes  to  roll  the  mists  away; 
Far  kindlier  than  the  moonlight 

That  dreams  its  life  away 


LINES  ON  FEELING.  101 

On  the  purple-tinted  landscape 
That  is  wearied  of  the  day : 

Far  milder  than  the  twilight 

Which  guards  the  gate  of  ev'n, 
When  the  red  orb  seeks  his  rest, 

And  glooms  the  vault  of  heaven ; 
Far  gentler  than  the  starlight 

That  floods  the  darkened  dome, 
Is  this  golden  tide  of  feeling 

That  calls  the  spirit  home  ! 

The  soul — it  often  wanders 

From  its  own  ethereal  sphere, 
Life's  truest  wealth  it  squanders, 

Nor  counts  its  blessings  dear ; 
It  sighs  for  other  pleasures 

Than  those  true  thought  reveals; 
It  seeks  for  other  treasures 

Than  those  the  spirit  leels. 


102  POEMS. 

Oh !  were  it  not  for  feeling, 

Heart  might  forever  roam, 
No  voice  to  guide  it  rightly, 

No  hand  to  point  it  home  ! 
This  steals  upon  the  spirit 

Ere  the  soul  be  well  aware, 
In  spite  of  each  demerit 

It  floats  upon  the  air; 

It  softens  every  feeling, 

It  soothes  each  care  to  rest, 
And  like  a  balm  of  healing 

Stills  the  tumults  of  the  breast ! 
'Tis  void  of  all  impression, 

The  soul  could  never  give 
Its  faintest  tints  expression, 

Or  bid  its  glories  live  ! 

Thus, 
When  the  golden  tide  of  feeling 


LINES  ON  FEELING.  103 

Softly  lulls  the  soul  to  rest, 
A  truer  phase  revealing 

Of  the  world  within  the  breast, 
Tis  then  I  love  to  wander 

'Mid  the  hills  and  painted  fields, 
Where  pensive  I  may  ponder 

The  truths  its  ray  reveals  ! 


104  POEMS. 


THE  UNIVERSAL  HEART. 

No  soul  so  dark,  or  sunk  so  low, 
But  oft  hath  felt  a  nobler  throe 
Than  e'er  hath  won  a  poet's  name 
Or  twined  the  lasting  crown  of  fame. 

The  wreaths  they  wear — the  illustrious  few — 
They  have  derived  from  me  and  you; 
Our  common  nature  rears  the  flower 
Their  hands  have  plucked  in  kindlier  hour. 

With  taste  and  care  they  weave  and  twine 
The  wreaths  which  should  be  yours  and  mine, 
Then  wear  in  cold  insanity 
The  crown  that's  due  humanity  ! 

Tho'  overflowing  like  the  bowl 
Of  generous  wine,  the  poet's  soul 


THE  UNIVERSAL  HEART.  105 

Is  emptiness — inanity, 

To  the  thoughts  which  bow  humanity. 

The  universal  heart  shall  beat 
With  deepening  pulses,  still  and  deep, 
Tho'  ne'er  a  dream  that  floods  its  mind 
May  spiritual  expression  find. 

Its  thoughts  are  deeper  than  the  earth ; 
Thou,  God,  alone  canst  give  them  birth ; 
Toward  thee  alone  still  swells  the  tide 
Engulfing  all  the  world  beside. 


10 


106  POEMS. 

HYMN  TO  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH. 

IN  THE  SPIRIT  OF  A  CONVERT. 

HAD  I  but  known  thee,  Church  of  God, 

Amid  my  boyish  years, 
I  had  not  bowed  beneath  the  rod 

Of  servile  hopes  and  fears  : 
Childish  disciple  at  thy  feet, 

I  should  have  caught  thine  accents  sweet 
Nor  wandered  far  from  righteousness; 

Thou  Spouse  of  Christ,  our  Saviour  mild, 

Hadst  hushed  to  calm  the  passions  wild 
Which  rob  me  of  my  bliss  ! 

Now  that  the  midnight  surges  raise 

Their  clamor  to  the  sky, 
Can  Reason  safely  thread  the  maze 

Of  strife  and  anarchy  ? 


HYMN  TO  THE  CATHOLIC  CHUECH.      107 

Alas  !  fair  Reason's  gaze  is  blind; 

No  other  refuge  may  we  find 

Save  thee,  thou  Church — thou  ark  of  God  ! 

Hope  as  a  rainbow  gilds  the  storm; 

Fixed  faith  defends  those  hearts  from  harm 
Whose  trust  is  in  his  word  ! 

I  know  that  o'er  the  mountain's  brow 

Thy  chariot-wheels  are  heard ! 
I  know  the  grieved  and  sorrowing  now 

Are  blessed  within  thy  word  ! 
To  Thee  I  come,  0  Saviour  mild, 
A  simple,  trusting,  tearful  child — 
Usher  my  spirit  to  thy  rest ; 

O  lead  me  to  thy  Spouse  on  Earth ; 

0  bless  me  with  the  second  birth 
Low  hushed  upon  thy  breast ! 

Thou  Spirit,  point  me  to  the  path 
Of  peace  without  alloy; 


108  POEMS. 

Ye  holy  martyrs  shield  from  wrath 

A  heart  without  a  joy; 
Be  thine,  sweet  mother  of  my  Lord, 
The  prayer  which  wins  me  to  my  God 
And  seals  my  soul  from  misery; 

A  wretch,  betrayed  without,  within, 
Sorely  estranged  by  care  and  sin, 
Dares  raise  his  voice  to  Thee  ! 


SONNET.  109 

SONNET  ON  CHATTERTON. 

ALREADY  time  has  brought  about  the  year, 
Wherein  I  number  days  as  fair  and  round 
As  those  that  youthful  Chatterton  have  bound, 
And  ushered  to  death's  gloom  on  boyhood's  bier! 
Would  that  my  burning  heart-throes  were  as 

dear 
To  man's  warm  pulse  as  his !    That  the  sweet 

sound 
Which  speaks  his  praises,  and  points  out  the 

mound 

Where  genius  lies,  might  lover-like  be  near 
-  My  sad  remains  !     Oh  !  I  would  willingly 
Be  wrapped  in  slumber  'neath  some  flowery  sod, 
There  to  be  hid,  and  there  unconscious  lie, 
Till  the  dread  trump  should  summon  me  to  God, 
Could  that  but  win  the  love  for  which  I  burn, 

And  link  my  name  to  such  as  may  not  die! 
10* 


110  TOEMS. 

DETERMINATION. 

I  DWELL  in  a  whirl  of  ideas  ! 

My  fiery  thoughts  are  the  trampling  steeds 

That  wing  their  way  to  the  spheres  ! 

Tramp  !  tramp  !  tramp  ! 

How  they  beat  the  air  with  the  burning  hoof, 

Rearing  aloft,  and  rearing  aloof, 

Whilst  my  heart  throbs  wild  -with  its  fears  ! 

Tramp!  tramp!  tramp! 

With  the  aery  step  of  Pegasus, 

Storming  the  pass  to  Parnassus  ! 

In  the  fair  morning  dream  of  life, 

The  spirit  wakens  to  inborn  strength, 

Gallantly  arming  for  strife  ! 

Strife !  strife  !  strife  ! 

Till  Nature  succumbs  to  the  sturdy  stroke 

And  her  spirit-charms  and  chains  are  broke, 


DETERMINATION.  Ill 

Which  else  would  have  bound  us  for  life ! 

Strife !  strife !  strife  ! 

With  iron  will  and  a  constant  aim : 

Thus  each  spirit  should  dare  a  great  fame ! 


112  POEMS. 

THE  HEEMIT. 

IN  a  land  of  clustering  roses,  tinged  with 

many  a  lively  hue, 
Where  merry  Sunshine  braids  her  hair,  and 

bares  her  breast  to  view; 
In  a  land  of  lightsome  echoes,  sweeping  wildly 

o'er  the  lyre 
Soft  Music  hangs  within  the  groves  to  wake 

and  soothe  desire, 
Lived  and  died  a  lonely  hermit,  mild  of  eye 

and  pure  of  heart — 
For  in  shunning  of  the  world's  embrace  he 

chose  the  nobler  part — 
When  that  Honor  weaved  a  chaplet  of  fail- 
hopes  to  grace  his  brow, 
He  had  fled  from  earthly  grandeur,  binding 

on  his  soul,  a  vow. 
With  a  spirit  wed  to  Nature,  in  bright  youth 

his  soul  had  loved 


THE  HERMIT.  113  * 

Each  living  thing  that  breathed  the  air — each 
creeping  thing  that  moved, 

For  his  eye — it  drank  the  glory  of  the  amber- 
tinted  sky, 

A-nd  to  his  heart  the  wild  winds  spake  that 
listless  wandered  by ; 

God  had  lulled  him  in  the  poet's  dream,  and 
with  a  poet's  tongue 

He  pictured  Earth  as  first  she  smiled,  her 
pristine  beauty  sung ; 

He  could  paint  the  burnished  mountains  glow 
ing  in  the  evening's  ray, 

And   o'er  the  blushing  landscape  make  the 
rosy  cloudlets  stray. 

When  twilight-voices  whisper,  singing  lullaby 
to  Mirth, 

And  heavenly  calm  falls  with  the  dew  that 
glist'ning  veils  the  Earth ; 

When  Morning  swings  her  censer  thro'  the 
dreamv  realms  of  air, 


114  POEMS. 

In  lowliness  of  spirit,  see  him  kneel  and  offer 

prayer : 
Thus   mysteries  are  lightened,  and  his  soul 

is  lost  in  day, 
Whilst   angel  forms,    with    shining    spears, 

thrust  Darkness  far  away, 
The  future — sweetly  smiling  on  the  present — 

points  above 
To  glorious  clouds  of  witnesses  which  throng 

the  throne  of  Love. 

MORAL. 

Thus  in  Age  the  heart  is  gladdened,  and  on 
angel-wings  shall  soar 

When  scattered  locks  and  feeble  steps  pro 
claim  the  conflict  o'er ; 

For  the  soul  that  shunneth  evil  in  the  early 
morn  of  Youth, 

E'en  in  Time  shall  view  Eternity,  and  wear 
the  crown  of  Truth  ! 


SONG.  1 1 5 

SONG. 
WHO  loves  not  to  gaze 

On  the  timid-eyed  gazelle, 
As  she  wanders  'mid  the  maze 

Of  the  hills  she  loves  so  well? 
By  the  crystal  fount  that  flows 

Murmuring,  murmuring 
Joy  to  the  breezy  groves, 

Answering,  answering, 
Gaily  she  trips  along, 
Keeping  step  to  Nature's  song  ! 

But  I  love  more  to  gaze 

Into  woman's  gentle  eye, 
As  her  lashes  soft  are  raised 

In  rapture  to  the  sky, 
For  I  feel,  and  I  know 

There's  more  music  in  her  soul, 
Than  unseen  choirs  in  wandering 

In  spirit-measures  roll ! 


116  POEMS. 

LINES  TO  MISS  E.  L.  N. 

WITH  a  smile  of  sunshine, 
With  an  eye  of  laughter 
Driving  on  their  merry  dance 
Tripping  sunbeams ;  with  a  glance 
Such  as  sparkles  warm  with  wine, 
Or  the  dream — hereafter  : 

With  a  soul,  displaying 

Treasuries  of  beauty 
Ever  riveting  the  gaze ; 
Overflowing  with  the  praise 
It  would  fain  be  saying 

In  defence  of  duty  : 

With  the  hope  of  heaven 
'Graven  on  thy  spirit; — 

As  thou  art,  we  love  thee, 

With  the  dreams  which  move  thee, 

For  to  such  is  given 

More  than  worldly  merit ! 


SONNET.  117 


SONNET 

On  the  erection  of  Bartholomew's  Statue  of 
Washington  over  the  store  of  N.  W.,  of 
Baltimore,  January  23d,  1859. 

WHO  would  have  thought  it,  mighty  Wash 
ington, 

That  form  as  sacred  to  each  heart  as  thine, 
Tho'  lifeless  marble-,  e'er  would  be  a  sign 
To    marshal  in    "  the  trade?"     And  Thou! 

Great  Son ! 

America's  lost  Joy — whose  race  has  run — 
Thrice  mourned  Bartholomew  !    Had'st  Thou 

forseen 

This  horrid  sacrilege  of  things  divine, 
The  cold,  cold  lips  of  stone  had  wreathed 

their  scorn 
11 


118  POEMS. 

'Heath  thy  creating  hand !     Then  them,  in 

tears 

Repentant,  streaming  in  a  hallowed  flood 
Adown  thy  careworn  cheeks,  had  poured  thy 

blood 

Christening  Earth,  rather  than  future  years, 
Pure  guardians  of  thy  miracles  and  name, 
Should  scar  thy  scutcheon  with  a  soiled  fame ! 


SONNET. 


SONNET. 

To  Mrs.   Fanny  Kemble,  upon  hearing  her 
read  Macbeth,  December  20,  1858. 

INIMITABLE  actress  of  the  soul, 
The  languages  of  Beason  and  the  Heart, 
Woven  adroitly  in  each  subtle  part, 
"When  thou  art  reading,  on  the  senses  roll ! 
That  voice  alone  could  well  express  the  whole 
Had  not  thine  eye  its  meanings  to  impart ! 
Now  hushed  to  calm  we  sit,  and  now  we  start ! 
Each  will  -dethroned,  yields  its  weak  control 
Over  passionate  desires  unto  thee, 
That  thou  mayest  train  them  in  obedience  . 
To  fickle  government,  till  they  shall  see 
Vain  opposition  ends  in  impotence, 
Without  a  show  of  reason  or  of  sense, 
While  to  submit  is  truly  to  be  free ! 


120  POEMS. 

LINES. 

MY  heart  expanded  like  a  flower 

Too  early  blown, 
Uncherished  by  mild  April-shower, 

Or  rearing  sun. 

Where  it  lies  withered,  others  wave 

In  crimson  dress; 
Their  leaves  the  dripping  night-dews  lave — 

Soft  winds  caress. 

What  tho'  they  dance  and  sing  aloud — 

All,  all  must  die  ! 
The  sparkling  dew  shall  glide,  a  shroud 

From  noiseless  sky. 

The  summer  drops  which  sank  in  showers, 
Soon  wintry  frost, 


LINES.  121 

With  biting  tongue  will  nip  the  flowers-, 
Their  beauty  lost. 

Thus  hearts  awaken  at  a  sigh 

To  thrills  of  love, 
And  by  that  glance  are  doomed  to  die, 

In  which  they  throve  ! 

Where,  where  on  earth,  poor  fleeting  one, 

Can  longing  find — 
Or  lingers  there  beneath  yon  sun — 

A  steadfast  mind  ? 

Say — is  love's  ecstasy  a  balm, 

And  to  be  given 
That  heart  alone,  which  spirit-calm 

Unfolds  in  heaven  ? 

Alas  !  that  God's  discerning  lot 
Should  call  so  few, 
11* 


122  POEMS. 

And  myriad  souls  should  die  for  what 
They  never  knew  ! 

My  heart,  clasp  thou  the  Infinite ! 

Thy  treasure  find 
Thro'  approbation  in  his  sight — 

The  purest  kind! 

Earth's  jewels  flash  the  gaudy  ray, 

An  hour's  joy  ; 
The  diamond's  lustre  wells  from  clay, 

A  base  alloy. 

Seek  thou  for  truths  immutable 
As  God's  own  throne ; 

Feel  thou  that  joys  of  spirit  well 
From  God  alone. 


TO  LILI  DURING  HER  ABSENCE.          123 


TO  LILI  DUBING  HER  ABSENCE. 

THE  beautiful,  they  pine  for  thee 

When  thou  art  far  away, 
They  yearn  to  bask  in  thy  sweet  smile, 

They  whisper,  "  dinna  stay  !" 

The  flowerets — the  rivulets — 
The  glades  and  sunny  meads, 

Are  languishing  for  thy  sweet  smile — 
The  passion  flower  bleeds. 

The  stars  in  silence  guard  the  night 
And  mark  each  fleeting  hour, 

The  sun  reels  darkling  on  his  flight — 
The  threatening  dun  clouds  lower. 

Each  heart  which  loves  the  beautiful, 
Now  thou  art  far  away, 


124  POEMS. 

Shall  throb  in  holy  unison — 
"Ah,  Lili  !  dinna  stay  !" 

Ah  !  could'st  thou  hear  the  earnest  prayer 
All  Nature  breathes  for  thee, 

A  joyous  tear — a  maiden's  tear 
Would  tremble  in  thine  e'e. 

'Twould  wound  thy  tender  soul  to  think 

That  thou  wast  far  away ; 
Thou  would'st  not  have  it  in  thine  heart, 

To  make  a  longer  stay. 

There  is  a  heart — a  poor  lone  heart — 
It  bleeds  each  lengthened  day, 

'Tis  lost  within  the  beautiful — 
It  whispers,  "  dinna  stay  !" 

It  looks  to  thee — it  beats  for  thee, 
Thou  measurest  every  stroke, 


TO  LILI  DURING  HER  ABSENCE.         125 

Thou  art  its  pulse,  and  shall  be  so 
Until  each  chord  be  broke. 

Thou  art  its  dream — its  heaven-born  dream ; 

Thou  art  its  every  sigh ; 
Thou  art  the  spirit  of  the  thrill 

When  none  save  God  is  nigh. 

Thou  art  the  fervor  of  its  power ; 

Thou  art  its  quiet  calm; 
Thou  art  the  tumult  of  its  throes ; 

Thou  art  its  holiest  balm  : 

And  still  it  mourns,  and  still  it  sighs 

That  thou  art  far  away ; 
Each  warm  pulse  notes  the  fleeting  hour 

And  whispers,  "  dinna  stay!" 

The  beautiful,  they  yearn  for  thee  ; 
They  pine  to  view  thy  grace ; 


126  POEMS. 

They're  languishing  for  thy  sweet  smile — 
They  long  to  see  thy  face  :    . 

And  thus  they  swell  the  saddening  plaint, 

"  Ah,  Lili,  dinna  stay  ! 
The  true — the  pure — they  canna  thrive 

When  thou  art  far  away !" 


LINES  TO  MISS  S.  W.  127 


LINES  TO  MISS  S.  W- 


COULD  gentle  thoughts,  and  modest  worth, 

Win  crowns  and  diadems  of  earth, 

The  fairest  and  the  most  serene 

Should  bind  thy  brow,  mild  Nature's  Queen. 

In  haughty  state,  let  Fashion  wear 
Rich  clustering  jewels  in  her  hair, 
No  mine  of  Ind  could  e'er  impart 
A  joy  like  to  thy  joy  of  heart. 

As  when  the  silvery  cloud  at  ev'n 
Is  rather  to  be  felt  than  seen, 
So  lost  within  the  amber  sky 
That  either  claims  the  brilliancy; 


128  POEMS. 

The  thrills  which  thou  awak'st  in  me, 
Tho'  warm  with  life,  are  lost  in  thee, 
Till  each  dear  rapture  makes  me  feel 
How  every  dream  I  have,  I  steal! 


THE  LITTLE  CLOUD.  129 


THE  LITTLE  CLOUD. 

'Tis  twilight's  quiet,  and  the  far  off  sky 

Is  softly  pencilled  of  amber  hue, 

As  tho'  an  artist  had  employed  his  skill 

In    shade    and    sunlight    thro'    refraction's 

power; 

Proving  that  Nature  needeth  not  the  shroud 
Of  darkness  edged  with  gold,  in  the  black 

woof 
Which  ofttimes   veils   the    smiling    face   of 

heaven — 

Thinking  to  add  new  grandeur  to  a  scene 
Resplendent  with  mild  graduated  shades 
Of  high  wrought  coloring,  and  well  thrown 

light ! 

Let  the  eye  glance  in  strictest  scrutiny 

From  west  to  north,  and  thence  unto  the  east 
12 


130  POEMS. 

Until  it  sweep  the  whole  horizon's  rim, 
And  rests  its  wearied  ray,  where  in  the  south 
A  silver  clasp  weds  joyous  Earth  to  Heaven, 
And  not  a  single  covert  can  be  found, 
Wherein  the  bright  idea,  speaking  to  man 
In  colors  tremulous,  and  deathless  tints, 
From  every  quarter  of  the  firmament, 
Could  well  conceal  its  radiance  from  the  gaze. 

And  yet,  behold  !     There  is  a  little  cloud, — 
Not  larger  than  a  hand, — of  crescent  shape, — 
With  edges  wavy  and  irregular,   - 
Of  which  the  body  is  so  shadowy 
That  the  bold  eye  can  pierce  midway  the  veil 
Which  robs  it  of  a  single  span  of  blue ! 
It  seems  as  tho'  God's  providence  directs 
Its  every  motion  through  the  azure  vault, 
So  slowly  floats  it,  that  the  doubt  might  rise 
Whether  it  move  at  all,  save  that  the  thought 
Of  Nature's  ministry  in  use  of  things — 


THE  LITTLE  CLOUD.  131 

Prime  ]aw,  immutable,  ordained  of  God — 
Gives  life  and  action  to  minutest  forms. 

Reclined  beside  a  stream  of  musical  voice, 
Carving  a  loved  one's  name  uppn  the  bark 
Of  the  sad  cypress  tree — as  tho'  that  name 
Were  wed  to  sadness,  and  a  spirit,  warmed 
With  deepest  fervor,  and  wild  rhapsody 
Of  love  unchangeable  that  outlives  life — 
Entwined  within  the  free  strings  of  the  heart — 
Whose  lyre  is  swept  alone  of  passion's  hand — 
Most  like  enwoven  harmony  of  verse, 
And  Music's  deeper  soul  of  untaught  strains—  • 
And  lost  in  musing  on  this  very  point 
Of  God's  eternal  providence,  displayed 
In  agency  and  use  of  Nature's  power 
Innate,  and  self-applied,  I  often  glance 
Upward  with  calm  delight,  to  note  the  change 
That,    shadowlike,   steals    o'er    the    face   of 
things — 


132  POEMS. 

A  spirit-veil — enhancing  loveliness 
Thro'  the  mild  softening  of  sky-scenery. 

But  see!  the  sky  alone  receives  not  all 
The  mild  reflection;  for  the  little  cloud 
Which  heretofore  seemed  uselessly  to  rob 
The  roving  vision  of  its  form  of  blue, 
Receives  one  trembling  ray  upon  its  breast, 
Softening,  and  softening  thro'  diffusive  power, 
Until  it  greets  the  glad  eye  with  a  smile 
Like  to  the  waving  amber-shafted  wheat 
Ripe  unto  the  sickle,  when  that  a  storm 
Bathes  the  warm  brow  of  Earth,  in  passing 

showers 

Of  cooling  rain,  and  sunlight  plays  between, 
Wild  gambols  with  the  streams,  and  woods, 

and  flowers  ! 

Already,  as  tho'  conscious  of  the  power 
Of  adding  grace,  and  elegance,  and  ease, 
To  Nature's  mild  repose  from  weariness — 


THE  LITTLE  CLOUD.  133 

Now  that  the  mantling  shades  invite  to  rest — 
It  grows  in  beauty  like  a  flower  in  bloom ! 
The  little  cloud  has  changed  into  the  moon, 
And  that  which  hid  a  single  span  of  blue, 
Now  lights,  irradiates,  and  chastens  all ! 

Hail !  Queen  of  Night !  and  mistress  of  my 

heart ! 

Thy  smile  is  like  the  ray  of  inward  peace 
Lighting  the  deep  recesses  of  a  soul 
Lost  far  within  the  beautiful — and  God ! 


12* 


134  POEMS. 


LINES  TO  MISS  G.  C . 

YOUTH  weaves  a  crown  for  later  years, 
Of  glowing  hopes,  and  pallid  fears, 

Then  pines  to  see 

The  opening  blush  of  many  a  flower, 
Which  closed,  awaits  the  full-blown  hour 

To  burst  it  free. 

Alas !  tho'  many  bloom  full  fair, 
Yielding  sweet  incense  to  the  air, 

Some  few  I  ween 
Are  paled  by  stern  reality — 
The  sorrows  of  humanity 

Too  often  seen. 

The  crown  thus  varied,  binds  the  brow 
Of  all  who  know  or  love  us  now ; 
'Tis  but  too  true 


LINES  TO  MISS  G.  C.  135 

Fond  Hope  can  never  bloom  alone  ! 
Pale — marble-pale — as  carved  from  stone 
Springs  Sorrow  too  ! 

Twin  sisters  dear!  I  would  not  part 
That  sisterhood,  or  ease  the  heart 

Of  one  sad  care ; 

This,  bids  Earth's  brightest  colors  shine  ! 
That,  whispers  softly,  "  Heaven  is  thine — 

Hence  !  dark  Despair  !" 

Oh,  may  thy  youthful  spirit  weave 

A  crown,  whose  radiance  mild  may  leave 

No  shade  behind — 
'Ohaplet  of  innocence  and  worth, 
The  rainbow  clasp  of  Heaven  and  Earth — 
A  tranquil  mind  ! 


130  POEMS. 


SONNETS  TO  CONSTANCE. 

I. 

FOR  three  long  weeks  I've  pined  to  see  thee, 

Constance ! 

Now  that  fond  hope  must  yield  unto  despair, 
I  have  bethought  me  of  my  God  and  prayer, 
And  penned  these  lines,  alas  !  a  vain  remon 
strance  ! 

What  pleasure  canst  thou  find  in  such  a  dance 
As  thou  hast  led  me  ?    Lovers  and  loved  ones 

stare 

Wonderingly  on  thee  !  First,  thy  beauty  rare 
^Rivets  each  joy-sick  sense,  turning  the  glance 
Of  thousands  upon  one :  which  thou  repayest 
By  all  the  myriad  pretty  things  thou  sayest 
With  every  speaking  feature !  Then  they  ask 
Inquiringly  about  thee,  and  a  heart 


SONNETS  TO  CONSTANCE.  137 

As  yet  unmoved  save  by  the  forms  of  Art, 
And  who  aspire  within  thy  smile  to  bask ; 

II. 

Whilst  I,  forsaken  of  my  own  sweet  hope, 
Must  'minister  the  short-lived  joy  to  such, 
As  seeing  thee,  already  love  to.o  much  ! 
Feebly  essaying  with  a  god  to  cope, 
Smitten  with  blindness,  how  they  reel  and 

grope 
Feeling  for  light !      And  if  perchance  they 

touch 

One  chord  of  sympathy  or  feeling  in  thee, 
Awakening  a  rapture  in  that  breast 
Which  heretofore  lay  slumbering,  oh  !  how 

blest 
The  ecstasy  which  thrills  them,  henceforth 

free  ! 


138  POEMS. 

But  should   thy  gentler  thought  be  veiled 

from  them — 

And  they  may  fail  to  read  thy  soul  aright — 
No  soothing  voice  of  Music,  no  fair  dream 
Of  what  might  be,  can  heal  the  heart's  sad 

blight ! 


LINES.  139 


LINES. 

IN  THE  SPIEIT  OF  UNIVERSALISM. 

WHEN  racked  upon  the  bed  of  pain 

Delirious  thought  would  scan, 
Visions,  that  ne'er  might  rise  again, 

Of  life  in  Nature — man  ; 
No  fear  of  dissolution  fell 
Upon  the  soul ;  no  dread  of  hell 

Could  blear  those  phantasies  of  mind  ! 
Where'er  the  active  spirit  soared, 
Tho'  lightnings  flashed,  and  thunders  roared, 

'Twas  peace  for  human  kind  ! 

Thanks,  glorious  Being!  for  the  theme 

Which  thus  engaged  my  song; 
Great  God!  and  was  it  all  a  dream — 

And  is  Thy  teaching  wrong ! 


140  POEMS. 

Ye  happy  few  who  hold  the  truth 
Impressed  upon  the  soul  in  youth 

By  laughing  meads  of  Earth  and  sky, 
Go  !  In  your  joy  spread  far  and  wide 
That  misery  Soul  shall  ne'er  betide, 

Nor  anguish  wake  her  sigh  ! 

Fair  Nature  wields  no  threatening  rod 

About  our  lowly  head  ; 
Each  roseate  blush — a  prayer  to  God — 

Still  bids  us  love — not  dread ! 
No  pang  attends  the  violet's  death, 
Into  the  air  she  yields  her  breath 

The  mildest  effluence  of  the  hour ; 
And  while  these  emblems  prove  his  care 
Embracing  ocean,  earth,  and  air, 

Creation  speaks  his  power  ! 

Great  God !  how  do  I  see  and  praise 
Each  wondrous  act  above  ! 


LINES.  14: 

A  Prince  art  Thou  in  all  thy  ways — 

A  fount  of  guileless  love  ! 
Nor  faithless  I — but  faithless  they 
Who  would  thy  character  bewray, 

And  stamp  thy  work  an  infamy  ! — 
These  dastard  hearts,  which  ceaseless  break 
Thy  laws,  shall  of  those  mercies  take 

They  would  deny  to  me  ! 


13 


142  POEMS. 


LINES. 

FAIR  Lili's  heart's  the  tent  of  Love, 
With  threads  of  feeling  interwove ; 

Joy's  laughing  fountain  wells  within — 
Oh !  who  would  not  the  curtains  move ! 

Steal  gently — the  rich  damask  draw — 
And  thus  my  bold  assertion  prove  ! 

How  fortunate,  whoe'er  may  view 
There  pillow6d,  a  rosy  Love  !    . 

Could  others  see  what  I  have  seen 

Oh !  who  would  not  my  choice  approve  ! 


TO  AMOEET.  143 


TO  AMORET. 

IN  burning  verse,  or  learning's  lore, 
Could  I  but  meet  as  mild  a  thought 
As  thy  sweet  smile  from  Nature  caught, 

'T would  fill  my  heart — I'd  need  no  more  ! 

But  having  once  on  Beauty  gazed 
The  soul  would  loiter  at  her  shrine ; 
Yet,  now  thy  love  may  ne'er  be  mino 

I  must  confess  the  siege  is  raised ! 

Since  prayer  is  wind,  and  useless  sighs 
But  wake  a  tumult  hard  to  bear, 
I  will  no  longer  sit  and  stare, 

Or  drown  my  soul  in  thy  deep  eyes ! 

I'll  say  I  ne'er  did  love  their  light ; 
Tho'  I  have  pined  the  livelong  day 


POEMS. 

To  catch  the  shadow  of  a  ray 
Which  round  them  ran  its  circlets  bright ! 

And  when  their  sunlets  flashed  but  scorn, 
I've  bowed  my  soul  in  humbleness, 
Which  witnessed  the  heart's  distress 

That  e'er  such  hapless  wight  were  born! 

But  when  in  liquid  tenderness 

Their  rays  might  pour  a  flood  of  grace — 
E'en  hallowing  another's  face — 

Oh  !  I  could  scarce  my  joy  repress  ! 

My  soul  is  like  the  swelling  tide — 
The  heavy — restless — surging  sea ; 
The  moon's  full  glories  like  to  thee, 

Which  peacefully  its  billows  ride  ! 

I  toss  with  longings  like  the  sea ; 
But  never  may  the  surges  rise 
To  wed  that  glory  of  the  skies — 

So  I  may  never  wed  with  thee  ! 


THE  DEAD.  145 


THE   DEAD. 

SWEET  is  thy  liquid  voice,  0  bell, 
To  the  dead ! 

Soothing  the  air  on  whose  pinions  it  floats 
Far,  far  away, — 
Thro'  the  realms  of  day, — 

As  the  sunbeam  dances,  jeweled  with  motes  ; 

Sweetest  and  wildest  of  melodies 

To  the  dead !    To  the  dead  ! 

And  fair  thy  flower- wreathed  brow,  0  Earth ! 

To  the  dead ! 
Low  hushed  is  the  pulse  to  list  to  the  toll 

Of  spirit-bells, 

With  whose  laughter,  wells 
Mild  Music's  earnest  and  tearful  soul ; 

13* 


146  POEMS. 

Waking  her  harmonies  morning  and  eve, 
For  the  dead !    For  the  dead ! 

Deepest  and  purest  of  Earth,  is  the  dream 

Of  the  dead ! 
O'er  life's  dull  languor  it  floats  like  a  crown 

Star-'cintured,  and  gleaming 

With  radiance;  seeming 
To  sink  with  the  shadowy  air,  gliding  down 
From  regions  of  spirit,  an  angel-crown 
From  the  dead  !    From  the  dead  ! 


LINES.  147 


LINES 

COMPOSED  AFTER  AN  ILLNESS. 

INTO  the  world  unknown, 
By  mad  delirium  thrown 
'Mid  changing  states,  and  loftier  flights  of 

brain, 

Entranced,  how  Being  reeled! 
Life's  conscious  fount  unsealed, 
Henewed  in  mind  the  fear  of  deepening  pain : 
Then — not  till  then — could  Truth  assert  her 

sway 

O'er  dreaming  Will,  which  slept  from  day  to 
day  ! 

• 

Intensity  of  thought 
.A  drearier  sense  has  wrought 
Of  hourly  anguish  traced  in  lines  of  care ; 


148  POEMS. 

Life  is  not  all  a  dream, 
As  sluggish  spirits  deem, 
There's  time  for  mirth — now  death  invites  to 

prayer  : 
My  God !    restore   pure  childhood's  trustful 

love; 
Be  Thou  my  guide  where'er  I  erring  rove  ! 

Can  man  renew  the  heart  ? 

Can  sated  sense  impart 
Beauties  primeval — joys  of'pristine  source  ? 

Thou,  Saviour  mild,  alone, 

From  sympathetic  throne 
Canst  re-create — derive  a  gain  from  loss; 
Inspire  the  trembling  hope  of  pardoning  grace ; 
The  heart  that  loves,  shall  see  Thee  face  to 
face ! 

Can  hypocritic  cant 
Supply  a  spirit- want? — 


LINES.  149 

Low  in  Earth's  pageant  let  us  bow  the  knee ! — 
What !  what  if  reason  fail 
Whilst  fiendish  hosts  prevail  ? 

Let  Will  regenerate  climb  the  heights  to  Thee ! 

Pressed  heart  to  heart,  Earth's  favored  sons 
repose, 

Reclaimed  from  sin,  protected  from  their  foes ! 

How  can  a  soul  unsaved, 

'Mid  myriad  hosts  enslaved, 
Gain  pure  delights—  ecstatic  thrills  of  heaven? 

A  panacea  yield 

For  such  as  keep  the  field, 
May  angels  whisper — "hark,  their  sin's  for 
given  !" 

Immortals !  never  weary  of  the  strife  ! 
To  fail— is  death  !    To  win— eternal  life  ! 


150  POEMS. 


LINES. 

EESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED  TO  OUR  HOUSE    OF 
REPRESENTATIVES. 

YE  gods !  To  think  that  Jove  allows  such 
strife 

Of  hearts  and  tongues,  to  mar  poor  human 
life! 

Such  combinations  of  pretence  and  power; 

Such  threatening  clouds  of  nothingness  to 
lower ! 

Was  gift  of  gab  but  given  us  of  God 

To  'prove  that  men,  as  well  as  logs,  are  bored? 

When  monarchs  tremble  for  their  wide  do 
mains, 

And  civil  broils  enhance  war's  grievous  pains ; 

When  rival  squadrons  flout  the  oppress6d  sea 

With  flying  streamers  and  artillery, 


LINES.  151 

And  safety  hangs  upon  the  sure  command 
Of  those  empowered  to  bid  them  flee,  or  stand ; 
Then,  little  instrument,  thy  voice  is  heard, 
For  pending  interests  hang  upon  a  word  : 
Then  God  commands  thee  speak,  for  weal  or 

woe; — 
But  this — is  waging  war  without  a  foe ! 

Tell,  mighty  wag!     Say,  rattling  clap-trap, 

say ! 
What    guides    thy    pendulum's    mysterious 

sway  ? 
Why  works  one  word  an  hundred  thousand 

fold 
More  than    ten    times    the   number    useless 

rolled  ? 

The  cause  alone  gives  weight  unto  the  wind— 
For  words  are   nothing  more  than  puffs  of 

mind ! 


152  POEMS. 

Come !    Sit  and  listen  to  this  wild  debate 
Of  mingled  nonsense — charity  ? — and  hate  ! — 
How  the  eye  sparkles  when  some  dodge  is 

found 

To  gain  the  floor,  and  pour  the  useless  sound ; 
See  the  fat  hand  extended  towards  the  roof — 
As  tho'  dumb  Nature  was  not  nonsense  proof : — 
Whilst  every  eye  is  strained,  and  every  ear, 
To  catch  the  sentiment  they  like  or  fear; 
How  men  are  swayed  as  tho'  by  clock-work's 

power 

Be  thy  revealment,  0  thou  future  hour ! 
What   ranting — tearing,  of  both  mind   and 

head — 

Such  wholesale  butchery  of  whate'er  was  said 
Ere   that   the   learned   member   gained  the 

floor, 

Was  never  seen  or  ever  heard  before ! 
What  sharp  presentiment  of  coming  strife — 


LINES.  153 

Of  principles  already  formed,  and  rife 
Within  the  magic-weaving,  muddling  brain 

Of  Mr. ,  who,  getting  floor  again, 

Will  perchance  argue  points  just  so,  and  so, — 
Amend  the  motion  by  a  well  afmed  blow 
Of  policy  farsighted — straight  aware 
That  such  a  dodge  will  make  opponents  stare  : 
Great  Jove  !  What  would  the  heavenly  coun 
cils  say, 

To  hear,  de  facto,  such  men  dare  to  pray ! 
And  yet  they  beat  and  bang  at  heaven's  door, 
E'en  whilst  misusing,  praying  hard  for  more  ! 
Oh  !  may  they,  Twist-like,  stretch  the  empty 

bowl, 

Poor,   brainless  pates,  mean  starvelings   of 
soul! 


14 


154  POEMS. 


TO  MISS  N.  S. 

I  KNEW  a  timid  child, 

A  gentle,  winning  maiden  ; 
No  dreams  her  heart  beguiled, 

Save  such  as  sweetly  laden 
With  perfumes  of  the  Heaven  and  Earth, 
Were  symbols  of  her  beauteous  birth ! 

Where'er  the  wild  Winds  bend 

The  crimson-tipp6d  flowers, 
Thither  her  lone  steps  tend 

To  while  away  the  hours ; 
The  beauties  of  her  mind  expand 
With  every  blush  that  paints  the  land  ! 

The  glories  which  surround 

Her  form,  are  varied  beauties; 
An  union  here  is  found, 


TO  MISS  N.  S.  155 

Of  pleasing  traits  and  duties — 
Deep  sympathies  with  human  kind, 
Of  heart  and  hand,  of  soul  and  mind ! 

Light,  shadow-like,  attends 

Her  steps  where'er  they  wander; 

The  star  of  evening  bends 
Her  loveliness  to  ponder, 

Hoping  at  some  far  distant  day 

Its  orb  may  yield  as  mild  a  ray ! 


156  POEMS. 


THE  DEATH  BED. 

A  young  man  being  desperately  ill,  and  acquainted 
with  his  near  dissolution,  requested  a  young  lady  to  be 
sent  for;  they  were  friends,  nothing  more.  On  the  ap 
proach  of  death,  he  asked  her  to  kiss  him,  with  which 
request  the  lovely  young  girl  complied.  The  following 
lines  are  respectfully  dedicated  to  one  in  every  way  an 
honor  to  her  sex. 

BLESSED  be  the  heart, 

Which  forth  from  out  its  urn  of  feeling,  poured 

A  bright  and  genial  flood 

To  cool  that  fevered  brow  ! 

Cheering  the  gloom, 

Gathering  in  darkness  o'er  a  wintry  sky, 
When  nameless  dread  drew  nigh — 
An  angel-form  she  stood  ! 


THE  DEATH  BED.  157 

When  from  thin  lips, 

Pallid,  and  bloodless  as  the  sifted  snow, 

The  soul's  wild  longings  flow, 

They  plead — nor  plead  in  vain  ! 

Those  earnest  orbs 

Soon  to  be  closed  in  an  eternal  night, 

Tho'  paling  now  their  light, 

A  faint  thanksgiving  yield !    . 

The  poet's  theme ! 

May  she  survive  to  grace  the  willing  song, 
Its  warmest  sigh  prolong, 
Heart-burdened  with  her  praise  ! 


14* 


158  POEMS. 

NATURE'S  VOICE. 

How  musical  the  voice  that  wakes  the  dells 
At  early  morn,  ere  that  the  merry  hounds, 
And  jocund  train  which  wait  Aurora's  blush, 
Bouse  slumbering  Echo  from  her  placid  rest, 
And    envious    sun-beams   ramble    thro'    the 

meads, 

Sipping  the  pendent  orbs  of  purest  light 
All  trembling   with  love-zeal — courting  the 

glance 
Which  drains  them  of  their  beauty,  and  their 

Being ! 

Tis  hard  to  think"lt  of  a  world  so  vast, 
Yet  truth  still  calls  for  truth ;  the  great  round 

Sun — 

The  eye  of  God — most  beautifully  bright, 
AVhich  meets  no  rival  in  his  lordly  path 


NATURE'S  VOICE.  159 

And  drinks  the  timid  starlight  at  a  draught — 
"Which,  all  the  livelong  night,  with  silvery 

veil 

Woven  of  fairy  sprites  on  Nature's  loom, 
Conceals  betrothed  Earth  from  lawless  gaze — 
Is  moved  to  jealousy  by  drops  of  light 
That  grace  and  bathe  her  brow :  lest  her  fond 

heart 

That  ever  loved  the  fair  and  beautiful, 
Be  won  of  delicacy  more  than  power  ! 

Let  envy  cease  !    Cease  vain  solicitude  ! 
She  prides  her  that  her  heart  of  hearts  is 

thine ; 

And,  lest  she  lose  thy  soul-inspiring  glance, 
She  throws  aside  the  drapery  of  the  hour 
With  which  she  tawdily  bedecked  herself, 
To  while  away  the  "  lazy-pacing"  points 
Called  seconds  in  the  reckoning  of  time, 


160  POEMS. 

Which  go  to  join  th'  immeasurable  past, 
And  herald  thy  return !     It  is  her  wish 
To  meet  thee,  robed  in  pure  simplicity, 
Winning  thee  to  herself  thro'  natural  charms, 
Such  as  first  won  thy  mild  approving  gaze 
When  the  great  God  bequeathed  her  to  thy 

care, 

And  bade  thee  cherish  her,  till  Death  and  Woe 
Should  swallow  up  all  forms  which  dream  of 

life, 

And  Chaos  once  again  ascend  his  throne 
Of  ebon  darkness,  'mid  the  crash  of  sphere 
Hurled  against  sphere,  reeling  to  accomplish 
A  direful  fate  and  final  destiny. 
Thou  wouldst    not  rob   her   of  the   modest 

flowers 

For  them  thou  gavest  her ;    and  as  thy  gift 
She  prizes  them  beyond  the  crystal  dew 
That  she  dispenses  with  at  thy  approach ; 


NATURE'S  VOICE.  161 

And  when  thou  comest  thro'  the  eastern  gate, 
She  welcomes  thee  in  silence,  and  with  smiles 
That  are  reflections  of  thine  own  sweet  gaze  ! 
The  drowsy  air,  aroused  from  listlessness — 
Her  swift-soled  messenger — she  sends  to  thee, 
Deep-laden  with  the  perfume  of  the  flowers 
Which  cluster  round  her  palpitating  heart ! 
And  she  would  fain  breathe  forth  a  prayer  to 

thee, 

Piercing  the  dark-ribbed  clouds,  which  inter 
cept 

The  golden  shower  of  thy  laughing  beams, 
Were  not  her  mild  voice  hushed  in  man's  sad 
fall ! 

God,  in  creating,  smiled  upon  his  work, 
And  forthwith  Earth  possessed  of  conscious 
ness — 

For  in  the  smile  of  God  dwells  Life,  whilst 
Death 


162  POEMS. 

Swift-pinioned,  drops  attendant  on  his  frown — 
Preferred  a  prayer  to  Him  for  reason  high, 
Wed  to  a  voice  well  trained  in  utterance 
Of  burning  thought,  and  spirit-ecstasies  : 
He,  answering  hope  by  its  accomplishment, 
Gave  infant  man  unto  her  nursing  arms, 
And  bade  her  train  him  in  true  utterance 
Of  mysteries ;  thus  she  would  be  relieved 
Of  untold  fires  which  waste  her  dreamy  breast. 
Him  thus  she  would  have  reared,  and  oft  she 

strove 

To  win  him  to  herself,  swaying  his  heart 
Thro'  the  eternal  union  of  soft  love 
With  whatsoe'er  is  beautiful  to  mind; 
Thus,    by    allurements,     did    she    hope    to 

guide 

His  fickle  intellect  to  sterner  laws 
Of  Being  absolute — dependent  forms  : 
Striving  to  raise  a  question  in  his  thoughts 
Of  how  the  creature  springs  to  life  and  sense 


NATURE'S  VOICE.  1G3 

From  the  mere  fiat  of  creative  Will. 
But  he  as  oft  took  cognizance  of  sense, 
O'erlooked  the  grandeur  .of  eternal  truths, 
In  mild  reflections  on  the  fires,  which  flare 
Like  lamps,  beneath  the  wind-swept  canopy 
Of  heaven's  emblazoned  roof;  the  moon — the 

stars, 
Entranced   his   eyes  by  night — his  Soul  by 

day, 
Lighting  the  world  of  mind  with  spirit-rays  ! 

Yea,  often,  too,  when  wandering  thro'  the 

glades, 
Young   buds  in  coyness   raised  their  lowly 

heads, 

Blushing  in  maiden  modesty,  to  win 
His  manly  gaze ;  and  then  have  drooped  for 

shame, 
That  tints  as  gentle  and  as  mild  as  theirs 


164  POEMS. 

Ne'er  won  remark,  e'en  in  his  kindlier  hours  ! 
Alas  !  that  it  is  so  !    Had  man  but  known 
What    eloquence    there     slumbered,    unex 
pressed, 

Dependent  on  his  rhapsodies  of  mind 
Fair  Earth  could  well  inspire,  but  not  direct ; 
His  whole  attention,  concentrated  where 
The  noblest  principles  can  be  evolved 
By  stern  reflection,  soon  would  have  disclosed 
The  hidden  glories  of  both  mind  and  form ; 
Such   joyful    symphony    from     thence    had 

sprung, 

His  foster  mother  ne'er  had  mourned  a  voice 
As  musical  as  that  which  guides  the  spheres, 
Thro'  all  the  mazes  of  the  giddy  dance 
Sweeping  the  vast  infinitude  of  space  ! 


BALLAD.  165 


BALLAD. 

WITH  lily-white  hand  on  her  bosom  of  snow 
To  musical  symphonies  moving,  as  though 

Soft  playing  the  strings  of  her  heart, 
Sits    Maggie !     Sky    glitters    above;   whilst 

below, 

Earth,  floating  in  charms  that  mellifluous  flow 
From  sympathy's  spring,  hangs  bathed  in  the 

glow 
Fair  Nature  alone  may  impart. 

Her  eye  were  too  warm,  save  to  mellow  its 

ray- 
Like  pencil  qf  evening  subduing  the  day — 
The  spirit  that  thrills  in  her  breast, 
Drains  inward  the  stream  of  the  light,  which 

denied 

15 


166  POEMS. 

The  throng  of  her  lovers,  is  poured  in  a  tide 
Of  dazzling  soul-beams,  disarming  the  pride 
Of  strangers,  and  foes  to  her  rest. 

Ah  !  many  have  drooped  for  a  glance  of  her 

eye; 
And  many,  sore  wounded,  have  left — with  a 

sigh — 

Fair  Maggie,  when  waking  her  heart  : 
That  glance  is  to  slay — that  lily-white  hand 
None  clasp  save  in  friendship,  for  such  her 

command : 
Tho'  suitors  have  offered  what  few  can  with-  . 

stand, 
Love-baffled  is  love's  every  dart._ 

Far  away !  Far  away  !  in  the  clime  of  the  South 
Where  bright  stars  sprinkle  rays  on  the  gor 
geous  Earth 
And  songs  ever  gladden  the  hour, 


BALLAD.  167 

Eoams  the  youth,  of  her  choice  :  that  youth, 

who  alone — 

Far  away  tho'  he  be — can  awaken  the  tone 
Of  affection,  soft  welling  from  lyre  of  stone, 
As  incense  exhales  from  a  flower. 


168  POEMS. 


TO  THE  EXILES  OF  ITALY. 

EXILES  from  a  bleeding  land — 

Welcome !   "Welcome ! 
Tho'  no  jostling  crowds  be  nigh 
When  the  bright  keels  kiss  the  strand, 
Myriad-hosts  should  raise  the  cry  : 

"  Welcome  !  Welcome  !" 
Waving  flags  of  liberty — 
Shouting — "  Hail  the  victor-band  ! 
Welcome !   Welcome  !" 

Have  ye  failed,  ye  steadfast  few  ? 

Never !  Never ! 
Ne'er  a  blow  is  struck  in  vain  ! 
Once  our  fathers  bled  like  you  ! 
Life-drops  rust  oppression's  chain 
Ever!    Ever! 


TO  THE  EXILES  OF  ITALY.  169 

Gallant  hearts  will  share  your  pain  ! 
Tyrants  shall  this  welcome  rue, 
Ever!    Ever! 

God  bless  bleeding  Italy 

Ever!    Ever! 

When  we  grasp  her  fevered  hand, 
Nations !  hearken  to  her  sigh  ! 
Noble .  souls !  our  homes  command 

Ever !    Ever ! 

Can  we  an  appeal  withstand 
In  behalf  of  liberty  ? 

Never !    Never ! 


15* 


170  POEMS. 


LINES  ON  UNFOBTUNATE  LOVE. 

I  loved  too  young  ! 
My  eyes  revealed  my  pain — 
Alas  !  alas  !  in  vain — 

Before  my  tongue ! 

Still  shall  they  rove! 
My  heart  by  impulse  swayed, 
Ne'er,  ne'er  shall  be  allayed, 

Save  thro'  sweet  love  ! 

Deepens  my  thought ! 
Confined  within  a  breast 
That  knows  no  joy  nor  rest, 

Tho'  hourly  sought ! 

Could  beauty  ease, 
Here  are  an  hundred  eyes 


LINES  ON  UNFORTUNATE  LOVE.          17 
/ 

That  sprinkle  love  with  sighs, 
Whispering — "  Cease, 

"  Cease  wandering  free ! 
Where  spirit-waters  gush, 
There  let  weak'ning  passion  hush 

Its  boisterous  sea !" 

When  laid  in  calm, 
May  Will  her  vigils  keep 
O'er  demons,  lulled  to  sleep 

In  slumber's  balm ! 

Health's  rosy  glow 
Upon  a  dimpled  cheek — 
Is  't  this  which  thou  dost  seek 

My  soul  ?    Ah,  no  ! 

A  kindred  heart  ? 
Yes!  yes!  I  mark  it  well, 


172  POEMS 

For  thee,  there  is  a  hell 
Deep-hewn,  apart ! 

Others  can  choose 
A  brighter,  lovelier  dream, 
And  in  another's  theme 

Their  sorrows  lose ! 

Sad  is  his  fate, 
Whom  loving  maids  despise ! 
Who  wakens  tears  with  sighs 

To  win  but  hate  ! 


/         LINES  ON  GENIUS.  173 

LINES    ON   GENIUS. 

DEDICATED  TO  DR.  C.  J. 

How  thankful  he  should  be, 

Whoe'er  hath  chanced  to  see 
A  genius  rear  the  god  within  his  breast ; 

Who  viewed  the  raging  fire 

Of  uncontrolled  desire 
To  act  high  deeds,  invade  a  spirit-rest ! 

When  by  a  great  thought  tossed, 

All  consciousness  is  lost 
Of  sun,  and  moon,  and  stars — of  death  and  life, 

Kapt  fairy-realms  of  soul 

His  every  sense  control, 
Till  wearied  Will  again  renews  the  strife ; 
Who  living,  but  would  willingly  give  o'er 
His  fairest  dream,  and  with  that  spirit  soar ! 


174  POEMS. 

Spontaneous  thrills  of  heart, 

Serenest  thoughts  impart, 
As  sparkling  crests  ride  waves  of  softest  light ; 

Reason  supreme  attends, 

And  when  commanded,  bends, 
Moulding  to  beauty,  forms  which  blind  the 
sight. 

Thus  from  the  realms  of  nought, 

Mild  shapes  are  hourly  brought, 

Whilst  varied  raptures  fair,  enchant  the  view ; 

Mind  riveted  to  mind, 

Heart's  greatest  wealth  shall  find, 
In  probing  Nature  for  the  bright  and  true  ! 
May  genius,  as  its  works,  for  aye  endure, 
That  man  may  cherish  still,  the  chaste  and 
pure  ! 


TO  AMORET.  175 


TO  AMOKET. 

SAY,  lovely  maiden,  say  ! 

Why  flee  the  light  ? 
Mild  charms  should  woo  the  day ; 

Few  are  so  bright : 
Cupid,  in  golden  chains, 
Prays  thee  to  ease  his  pains ! 

Dost  yet  in  freedom  hold 

Maidenly  thought? 
Fear,  lest  that  over  bold, 

Thou  mayest  be  brought — 
Proud  tho'  thou  be — so  low 
All  may  deride  thy  woe  ! 

Hearts  lost  and  won  on  Earth, 

Oft  lose  their  power, 
Waked  to  a  nobler  birth 


J  76  POEMS. 

Love  rules  the  hour; 
Fear,  lest  -unknown  to  thee 
Thy  heart  may  vanquished  be  ! 

Shouldst  thou  refuse  my  prayer- 
Still  hear  my  sigh ; 

When  hope  dissolves  in  air 
Sorrow  is  nigh ; 

Oh!  soothe  the  galling  pain, 

E'en  whilst  you  forge  the  chain  ! 

Waft  back  the  dreams  of  youth- 

Becall  the  hour 
Light  sighs  were  wed  to  truth 

Thro'  Beauty's  power : 
Then,  weave  in,  fair  and  free, 
Visions  and  dreams  of  thee  ! 

Thus  tho'  my  heart  may  mourn 

Laden  with  sorrow, 
New  dreams  shall  bid  me  turn 


TO  AMORET. 

Hope  to  the  morrow  : 
E'en  pain  will  rapture  prove, 
When  wed  to  those  we  love  ! 


16 


178  POEMS. 


TO  MIKIAM. 

I  KNOW  thee,  lovely  Miriam,  what  thou  art — 
A  cold,  insensate  form,  without  a  heart  ! 

The  moon-beam  loves  to  nestle  in  thy  hair ; 
The  fainting  Zephyrs  whisper,  thou  art  fair : — 

Yet  Earth  is  all  too  warm  a  home  for  thee : 
.  Thou  canst  not  feel  the  throbbing  of  the  sea  ! 

The  delicate  tendrils,  as  they  branching  twine 
Around  the  oak,  suggest  no  love  divine  ! 

The  joyous  smile  which  lights  the  fields  of  air, 
Speaks  not  of  God,  nor  whispers  he  is  there ! 

When  thro'  thy  lattice,  laughing  Morn  would 

take 
A  peep  at  thee,  and  thy  soft  slumbers  break ; 


TO  MIRIAM.  179 

Aurora  blushes  that  she  must  behold 
Such  breathless  beauty  cast  in  icy  mould  ! 

Oh  !  learn  to  view  the  hand  of  God,  endued 
With  matchless  power  to  work  thee  harm  or 
good; 

A  power  displayed  in  myriad  worlds,  up  hung 
In   boundless   space,    fair   on   their    centres 
swung; 

A  mind  applied  to  form  the  insect's  wing; 
A  hand  that  mingles  odors  of  the  Spring  ! 

And  if  thou  wouldst  a  living  joy  impart, 
Pray  God  to  gift  thee  with  a  human  heart : 

Thus  mayest  thou  learn,  how  love  is  holier  still 
Than  heartless  beauty,  paining  by  its  thrill ! 


180  POEMS. 

AN  ADDEESS  TO  MY  IMPULSE. 

WILT  thou  ne'er  prove  false  to  me 
Heart-awakened  melody  ? 
Thro'  the  dim  revolving  years 
Thickly  strewn  with  hopes  and  fears, 
Wilt  thou  still  remain  by  me 
Heart-awakened  melody  ? 

Ah  !  I  feel,  when  youth  is  past, 

And  the  brow  is  overcast, 

Blackened  with  the  blows  of  life 

Driven  in  amid  the  strife, 

Thou — with  other  friends — shalt  flee, 

Heart-awakened  melody ! 

Y"et,  tho'  then  my  soul  shall  bow, 

I  will  glory  in  thee  now  ! 

Tell  me — if  'tis  given  to  tell- 
Whence  pure  springs  of  rapture  well  ? 


AN  ADDRESS  TO  MY  IMPULSE.  181 

Mellows  love  in  woman's  voice, 

Or  the  gentle,  rustling  noise 

When  the  Zephyr  longing  breathes 

Thro'  myriad-hosts  of  leaves  ! 

Whisper  of -the  purple  West, 

And  the  landscapes  crowned  with  rest ! 

Tell  me — if  'tis  given  to  tell 

Whence  pure  springs  of  rapture  well — 

Why  thou  comest  like  a  sigh 

Forced  to  wander  listlessly  ? 

Why  thou  dost  to  pleasure  wake 

Hearts  thou  leavest  soon  to  break,? 

Whether  Love  or  Poesy 

Is  the  name  most  dear  to  thee  ! 

I  would  know  thee,  what  thou  art, 

For  I  feel  thou  rul'st  my  heart ! 

Art  thou  Thought — or  art  thou  Feeling? 
Art  thou  but  a  ray,  revealing 

16* 


182  POEMS. 

Hidden  jewels  of  the  mind, 

Thought  without  thee  ne'er  could  find  ? 

Art  thou  Intuition's  self? 
Or  a  prank  of  that  wild  elf, 
Whispering  to  ingenuous  souls  : 
"  Here  the  tide  of  treason  rolls, 
Hidden  deep  in  dastard  breast, 
Which  forever  lost  to  rest, 
Hates  to  view  the  sacred  peace 
Of  another  soul  at  ease  !" 
Tell  me,  for  thou  rul'st  my  heart — 
I  would  know  thee  as  thou  art  ? 

Tho'  thou  wert  a  misery — 
Tho'  thou  wert  an  open  lie 
Given  to  this  end — deceiving 
All  who  must  go  on  believing, 
Whilst  thou  pourest  out  thy  sigh 
On  the  spirit,  seemingly 


4  AN  ADDRESS  TO  MY  IMPULSE.  183 

Urging  to  a  noble  end; 
Tho'  I  knew  thee  for  a  fiend- 
Yet  my  spirit  loves  thee  so 
I'd  thy  every  bidding  do  ! 

Is  the  culture  of  the  heart 
Madness  ?    Dost  thou  e'er  impart 
Glories  of  the  soul,  to  those 
Who  are  idiots  from  repose  ? 

Tell  me  !    Is  this  restlessness 
But  the  shadow  of  the  bliss, 
Spirit-calm,  and  rest  of  heaven, 
To  the  sainted  heroes  given — 
Such  as,  'mid  the  battle's  din, 
Warred  for  God,  and  vanquished  sin  ? 

Yet,  and  if  thou  answerest  not 
These,  the  questionings  of  heart, 
May  thy  sweet  tones  whisper  me 
Thro'  a  love-eternitv ! 


184  POEMS. 


AMBITION. 

IT  is  a  sad,  disheart'ning  lot, 

To  feel  that  other  minds  can  soar 

To  airy  heights,  which  we  dare  not 
Attempt  to  clamber  o'er  ! 

That  brethren  and  companions  dear, 
Tho'  bound  to  us  by  social  ties, 

Will  not  by  our  suggestions  steer 
Their  courses  for  the  skies  ! 

Ambitious  souls  which  feel  the  weight 
Of  glory  every  mind  can  bear, 

Are  even  fain  to  underrate 
The  genius  that  they  fear  ! 

When  cured  of  envy's  sting,  the  heart 
Is  guided_of  pure  love  again, 

Time  —  time  alone,  will  heal  that  smart 
Which  pierces  every  vein  ! 


AMBITION.  185 

Let  each  true  man  contentment  find,     . 

In  that  he  bears  an  image  bright, 
Stamped  lastingly  upon  the  mind, 

And  traced  in  living  light ! 

Great  hearts  are  but  weak  tools  within 
The  iron  grasp  of  Nature's  Lord, 

And  when  reclaimed  from  pride  and  sin, 
Yield  praise  alone  to  God  ! 

No  honor  claim  they  as  their  due ; 

No  thought  original;  no  way 
Can  they  point  out  as  sure  and  true, 

To  lead  men  to  the  day ! 

Less  honored  souls  should  e'en  rejoice 
That  God  can  sometimes  use  frail  man — 

A  clarion  to  resound  his  voice — 
And  tell  us  all  He  can ! 


186  POEMS. 

AMELIA. 

A  FRAGMENT. 

The  following  lines  are  fragmentary — connected  only 
by  the  Author's  private  knowledge  of  plan,  and  future 
development.  Fearing  lest  his  little  book — from  want 
of  patronage — may  be  the  only  one  he  will  be  .enabled  to 
give  to  the  world,  he  thinks  it  appropriate  to  publish  in 
this-  crude  form  that,  which  at  some  future  date  may 
possibly  take  a  more  decided  mould  and  character. 

FAIR  is  the  smile  of  the  Earth,  for  Morning 
has  sprinkled  the  sunshine 

Veiled  in  the  globules  of  rain  that  noiselessly 
dripped  from  the  heavens, 

Far  over  meadow  and  lea,  bathing  the  land 
scape  in  glory  ! 

Long  white  peninsular  clouds  lose  their  capes 
in  the  still  blue  water 

Arched  far  above — a  measureless  sea — an 
ocean  of  laughter ! 


AMELIA.  187 

Fair  is  the  smile  of  the  Earth,  tho'  Evening 

had  witnessed  the  gray  mists 
Cover  the  deep-souled  sky  as  the  foam  hangs 

over  the  billows, 
Mingling    shadowy     forms — scattering    the 

spray  of  the  snow-flakes 
Melting  for  love  of  the  first  warm  kiss  Earth 

^  gave  them  as  greeting  ! 
Warm  is  the  smile  of  the  Earth,  but  milder 

the  glance  of  Amelia 
Plays  o'er  the  fair-haired  boy  she  leads  by 

the  hand  to  the  cottage, 
Softly  uplifting  the  latch  which  fastened  the 

door  of  their  dwelling, 
As  tho'  afraid  of  disturbing  the  rest  which 

had  fallen  from  heaven — 
Slumber  of  peace — on    the  tremulous  limbs 

of  her  blind  old  father. 
Gently  they  pass  thro'  the  door — the  boy  and 

the  maiden  together ; 


188  POEMS. 

Nearer  and  nearer  they  glide  towards  the 

chair  with  the  tread  of  a  shadow, 
Kissing  the  floor  of  the  room — their  feet — 

with  as  noiseless  a  blessing. 
Wed  to  the  sorrows   of  age,  the   music  of 

youth's  deathless  longings 
'Wilders  the  old  man's  brain, — as  the  wind 

sweeps  over  the  wind  harp 
Swung  midway  from  a  branch  of  a  tree  'twixt 

Earth  and  the  Heavens — 
Mingling  sighs  for  the  past,  with  the  sadden 
ing  tones  of  the  present. 
They,  seated  near  him  in  love,  mark  with 

pleasure  the  smile  of  the  Spirit 
Smoothing  the  wrinkles  of  age,  lightening  the 

sternness  of  nature  : 
When,  as  a  new-born  joy,  it  wanders,  they 

whisper  "  he  slumbers ; 
Dreams  of  the  dear  old  times — the  dreams  of 

his  earliest  childhood 


AMELIA.  189 

Come   once   again — an   earnest  of  peace — a 

balm  for  his  sorrow, 
Lifting  the  weight  of  his  years,  off  from  the 

spirit  of  Mai  thus  !" 
Dreams  of  the  dear  old  times — now  he  follows 

the  bend  of  the  river 
Winding  its  devious  course  thro'  the  meadow 

once  owned  of  his  father, 
Skirted  with  copse — a  thick  undergrowth  of 

hazel  and  dogwood ; 
Listlessly  wandering  on,  musing  of  Life  and 

the  Spirit, 

Losing  his  Soul  in  a  thought  so  deep  it  swal 
lows  his  Being ! 
Mindless   of  Earth  and   the  sky,  with   the 

rippling  flow  of  the  waters — 
Mindless    of    mother   and   home,   of    sister, 

brother,  and  father — 
Winged  of  its  joy,  his  Spirit  has  flown  to  the 

regions  of  dreamland  ! 
17 


190  POEMS. 

There,  of  the   gorgeous  clouds,   it   rears  a 

temple  of  glory 
Piercing   tlie  dark   blue   vault :   glisten  the 

myriad  spires 
Pale  as  the  light  of  the  moon,  changing  from 

amber  to  silver, 
Shifting  their  dazzling  hues  like  the  glittering 

mass  of  the  iceberg 
Jewelled  with  stars,  imprisoned  within  that 

casket  of  crystal, 
Flashing  the  pale  white  light  of  its  radiance 

over  the  Ocean  ! 

Sad  would  it  be  for  the  Earth  were  the  visions 
of  longing  eternal ; 

Closed  were  her  eyes  to  the  measure  of  time, 
the  glories  of  action. 

Soothed  by  the  languishing  tones  ever  whis 
pering  rest  to  the  weary, — 


AMELIA.  191 

Lulled  by  the  soft  laughing  flow  of  raptures, 

deliciously  welling 
Free  from  the  springs  of  the  heart,  weaving 

harmonious  numbers, 
Winging  their  way  to  the  regions  above,  a 

choir  of  languor, 
Up  thro'  the  chasms  of  night,  burdening  air 

x  "with  their  sweetness, — 
Closed  were  the  ears  of  the  Soul,  to  the  loftier 

aims  of  her  Being ! 

Just  as  a  bird  of  the  morn,  when  aroused  by 
the  blush  of  Aurora 

Springs  from  the  grass  on  aerial  wings,  beat 
ing  music  to  nature, 

Stemming  the  currents  of  air,  and  rising 
higher  and  higher 

Borne  far  aloft  by  the  wandering  gusts  which 
buffet  his  pinions ; 


192  POEMS. 

Drinking  the  colorless  light  of  the  morning, 

and  steadfastly  gazing 
Being  away,  with  love  for  his  mate,  and  her 

delicate  plumage ; — 
Yet,  in  his  'wildering  course,  a  sense  of  his 

love,  and  her  nurslings, 
Steals  like  a  vision  of  future  into  a  bosom  of 

longing— 
Suddenly   wheeling    about,  he    beholds    the 

stream,  and  the  green  sward, 
This,  a  mirror  of  sky  reflecting  the  brighten 
ing  azure, 
That,  an  emerald  mould,  and  glistening  fresh 

with  the  dew  drops, 
Laved  with  the  same  fair  light  he  sought  in 

the  regions  of  cloudland  : 
Swift  as  a  glance  of  the  Sun,  he  drops  from 

the  sky  to  the  meadow — 
Thus,  from  the  castles  of  air,  falls  to  Earth 

the  musings  of  Malthus  ! 


AMELIA.  193 

Turning  his  pale  wan  cheek  to  the  stream  of 
the  light,  which,  denied  him, 

Floated  a  gauze-like  veil  o'er  the  shadowy 
Earth  and  the  Heavens, 

Sweeping  the  land  and  the  Sea  with  its  deep 
ening  fringe  as  of  amber, 

Trailed  by  the  ministering  cloud  thro'  the 
dust  of  the  ground,  and  the  white  mists, 

Malthus  awakes  to  the  sense  of  his  love,  and 
the  hope  of  his  blindness  ! 

Wakening  thrills  of  delight  in  the  breast  of 

the  youth  and  the  maiden, 
Softy  he  calls  to  the  boy  and  the  girl  with 

the  voice  of  affection  : 
"  Come  to  the  knees  of  my  age,  and  ponder 

the  words  of  your  father ; 
Malthus,  the  blind  old  man,  has  something  of 

interest  to  tell  you  : 

17* 


194  POEMS. 

Fly  to  the  arms  of  my  age,  for  I  feel  you  are 

near  to  my  heart's  love, — 
Ye  !  ye  !  alone  remain  to  these  arms  from  the 

forms  they  have  cherished — 
Mother  and  father,  with  sister  and  wife — all ! 

all !    They  have  left  me — 
Snatched  from  the  loving  embrace,  and  chilled 

by  the  breath  of  the  death-fiend ! 
Daughter — with  speed, — in  the  blush  of  your 

youth — I  long  to  encircle 
Charms  which  shall  draw  forth  the  sigh  from 

the  languishing   breasts   of  the   young 

men, 
Youths  all  alive  to  the  beauties  of  form  in  the 

future  of  Being, 
Warmed  by  the  glance  of  an  eye,  and  thrilled 

by  the  echoing  soft  laugh, 
Magical,  musical — breathing  of  treasures  re 
served  for  the  loved  ones, 


AMELIA.  195 

Guarded  with  care  by  the  critical  eye  of  the 
cynical  mother ! 

Such  were  the  years  in  the  past,  and  I  doubt 

not  such  is  the  future  ! 
Each  age  is  but  to  show  that  the  world,  with 

its  forms,  shall  continue ; 
Earth  has  her  robe — the  ocean  his  tides — the 

heart  its  emotions, 
Shifting  and  surging,  and  falling  perchance, 

but  in  melody  turning 
Back  to  the  same  old  phase  that  delighted 

the  hearts  of  the  Fathers ! 

Soft  is  the  glance  of  the  Sky  to  a  heart  in  the 

morning  of  Being, 
Fresh  from  the  hands  of  the  Lord,  wakening 

hopes  for  the  future — 
Mellow  the  hum  of  insect- wing  in  the  tremble 

of  motion — 


196  POEMS. 

Golden  the  haze  of  the  dust,  deep-tinged  with 

the  pencil  of  sunlight ; 
Yet,  in  the  end,  'tis  the  will  of  the  Lord — an 

end  never  failing, 
Time  drags  heavily  on,  till  the  hope  of  the 

future,  accomplished, 
Dies  on  the  heart  of  the  man,  as  the  leaf  on 

the  heart  of  the  forest ! 

As  they  return  from  the  burial  ground,  the 

home  of  the  friendless, 
See  the  clouds  break  up  like  the  mass  of  ice 

that  covers  a  river, 
Floating  in  huge-hewn  blocks,  whilst  the  still 

water  darkens  between  them. 
Far  thro'  their  cavernous  depths  behold  you 

the  long  lost  Ether ! 
Is  it  the  eye  of  the  Lord  which  brightens  and 

gladdens  the  landscape  ? 


AMELIA.  197 

Circles  of  blue  look  down  with  the  passionless 
love-gaze  of  childhood  ! 

Far  over  meadow  and  lea  the  swift-flitting 
shadows  are  playing, 

Dancing  a  shadowy-dance — chasing  the  sun 
light  before  them. 

Now  the  Sun  marshals  his  rays  behind  the 
dark  thunder-cloud,  looming 

Black  with  impetuous  fate,  portending  tem 
pestuous  ruin : 

Ever  and  anon  from  behind,  peep  the  glitter 
ing  points  of  the  spear-heads — 

Level  their  shafts — like  the  glance  of  an  eye 
they  haste  to  the  battle ! 

Heaven's  artillery  thunders  its  rage  in  the 
crash  o'er  the  mountains  ! 

God  hurleth  his  spear  in  the  lightning-dart 
that  rendeth  the  pine  trees, 


198  POEMS. 

Whilst  that  from  chasm  and  peak,  wild  with 
fright,  leap  the  heart-quelling  echoes  ! 


Sigheth  the  Wind  of  the  West,  in  languish 
ing  numbers  and  accents : 

"  I  must  away,  to  shepherd  the  clouds  thro' 
the  infinite  void  !" 

Like  a  heart-sigh,  it  wasteth  its  life  in  the 
•  useless  endeavor 

By  one  fell  swoop,  to  sweep  from  the  sky  its 
burden  of  sorrow ! 

Tho'  they  move,  the  dark  clouds,  tho'  they 
lessen  and  lessen,  and  fade  in  the  dis 
tance — 

Tho'  they  curl  and  divide,  and  in  airy  shapes 
lighten  the  landscape — 

The  boundless  horizon  still  fleeth  and  fleeth 
before  them ; 


AMELIA.  199 

Thus  the  heart,  tho'  relieved,  still  nurse th  its 

burden  of  anguish ! 
****** 

"  Surely  her  face  is  divine,  for  a  spirit-sweet 
ness  descending 

Swift  from  the  musical  spheres,  in  its  joy  has 
fallen  upon  her, 

Gladdening  Earth  with  an  angel-smile — a 
power  of  beauty 

Winning  the  soul  unto  wisdom,  and  moving 
the  hearts  of  beholders ! 

See  where  she  gracefully  glides,  the  perfect 
mould  of  a  woman, 

Maidenly  veiling  her  face — fearing  the  sun 
light  should  kiss  her ! 

Panting  for  bliss,  the  Wind  of  the  West, 
with  the  hand  of  a  lover 

Gently  uptossed  the  deep-craped  veil,  disclos 
ing:  the  features 


200  POEMS. 

Homer  had  sung,  as  they  shone  revealed  in 

the  light  of  his  blindness  ! 
For,  when  Nature  is  haze,  and  eyes  formed 

of  clay  gather  blackness, 
So  that  the  Sun  is  an  orb  of  gloom,  and  the 

tides  of  the  sunbeams 
Play  o'er  the  motionless  balls  upraised  to  their 

shower  of  darkness,, 
Light  wells  free  from  the  Soul,  like  a  golden 

mist,  which,  dispersing, 
Gladdens  the  view  with  emerald  meads,  and 

vistas  of  azure 

Blending  their  various  tints,  to  form  a  glori 
ous  union, 
Milder  by  far  than  the   natural  eye  in  its 

vision  hath  bounded ! 
Such  are  the  landscapes  of  mind,  and  such 

the  raptures  eternal, — 

These  are  the  forms  Maeonides  saw  in  peo 
pling  Elysium  !" 


AMELIA.  201 

Thus  sang  the  youth  in  his  heart,  and  these 

are  the  words  which  he  uttered, 
Praising  the  grace  of  Amelia,  and  blessing 

the  turf  which  she  trod  on, 
Whispering  low  to  his  friend,   "  vera  incessu 

patuit  dea," — 
Venus  herself,   the  praise  of  the  gods,  the 

spouse  of  Hephaistos, 
Wandering  free  in  the  groves,  and  suddenly 

chancing  upon  her, 
Paused  in  the  walk,  in  wonder  to  gaze  on  the 

grace  of  the  maiden, — 
Staying  the  step  which  awakens  a  thrill  in  the 

souls  of  Immortals  ! 

****** 
Is  it  the  Air  that  is  whispering  thus,  on  the 

heart  of  the  waters 
Sighing,  and  laughing,  and  sighing  again,  as 

they  wander  forever 

18 


202  POEMS. 

Homeless,  companionless,  rolling  in  melody 

over  the  smooth  stones — 
Such  as  that  shepherd  of  old  had  chosen  to 

fight  with  Goliath — 
Never  to  rest,  ever  losing  their  stream  in  the 

gorge  of  the  mountains  : 
Now  reappearing  again,  and  shaping  its  flight, 

for  the  Ocean, 
Eager,  insatiate,  longing  to  swallow  Earth, 

Air,  and  the  Heavens ; — 
Winging  its  way  like  a  great  white  bird  thro' 

the  mists  of  the  forest ! 

Is  it  the  voice  of  the  Wind,  or  the  pulse  of  the 

sparkling  streamlet 
Throbbing  in  sympathy  wild  to  the  call  of  the 

Sea  in  the  distance, 
Murmuring — "Lo,  I  come!"  Singing,  "Soon 

and  I  shall  be  with  you," 


AMELIA.  203 

Lost  in  your  froth-capped  waves,  or  spread 
as  the  foam  on  the  long  strand, 

Or  as  the  wind-tossed  spray,  showering  light 
on  the  head  of  the  sailor, 

Crowning  the  slave  of  his  own  wild  thought 
with  the  jewels  of  freedom ! 


204  POEMS. 


SPRING. 

In  the  Spring  !     In  the  Spring  ! 

Earth  blushing,  renewed, 

In  her  glories  renewed, 

Caresses  her  flowers ! 

They  drooped  'neath  the  rage 

Of  the  pitiless  blast ; 

But  the  voice  of  the  Wind, 

Of  the  low  summer  Wind 

In  melody  sighing: 

"  Awake  !"— Whilst  the  Hours, 

Bedecking  the  bowers, 

Responded  in  soft  winning  accents  : 

"  Awake  !    Loved  of  Heaven,  awake 

Remember  the  past/' — 

Has  raised  Winter's  siege  ! 


SPRING.  205 

In  the  Spring !     In  the  Spring ! 

Light  thoughts  sparkle  up, 

Leap  up, — bubble  up 

From  the  wells  of  the  heart ! 

They  hang  in  their  lightness 

O'er  the  glass  of  the  stream  : 

In  their  rising  and  falling, 

Wakened  Memories  are  calling 

To  Memories  dead — • 

"  Awake  joys  of  heart ! 

To  rhapsody  start ! 

Earth  and  Heaven  are  whispering  ever : 

Awake  !     Sleep  no  more !" 

Then  melt  as  a  dream 

That  is  veiled  of  its  brightness ! 


206  POEMS. 


ONE'S   OWN   DAYDEEAM. 

In  the  wanderings  of  Spirit 
Isles  of  beauty,  undiscovered 
Heretofore  by  kindred  natures, 
Greet  the  eye  : 

Clad  in  robe  of  waving  velvet, 
'Chased  with  violets  and  roses, 
How  such  tendernesses  make  us 
Heave  the  sigh ! 

Other  dream  may  be  for  other, 
Fair  and  beautiful  as  ours — 
Sunny  lake,  and  laughing  shower ; 

Waves  of  light 

Oft  in  silence  lave  the  long  strand 
Ruby-red  with  rolling  jewels, 


ONE'S  OWN  'DAYDEEAM.  ,  207 

Flashing  as  the  giddy  moon-beam 
Eeels  thro'  night ! 

Other  dream  may  be  for  other, — 
Dream  as  beautiful  as  ours — 
Losing  rhapsody  in  langour 
Of  the  soul; 

Yet  each  Spirit  loves  its  own  dream, 
Calmly  moulding  its  ideal 
Pulseless,  where  the  tides  of  glory 
Ceaseless  roll ! 

Is  it  that  discerning  Fancy 
Marshals  up  from  heart  remembrance 

Forms  of  Being,  -which  to  move  us 

Crowd  each  scene, 

Thick  with  wild  youth's  deathless  longings  !— 
Lost  to  Spirit,  save  that  visions 
Waked  of  memory  'mid  Earth's  trials, 

Intervene ! — • 


208  POEMS. 

• 

As  the  dewy  cloud  of  Evening 
Hangs,  a  rapture,  lightly  curling 
Into  tint  and  smiling  notice — 
So  with  thought ! 

Would  that  Soul  could  dwell  forever 
'Mid  the  gay  creation  floating, 
Wafted  on  mild  Music's  pinions 
Through  the  heart ! 


THE  END. 


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15  U5  Lyrics  and  other 
Ph8  1  poems.  _ 


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